


A Glint of Gold

by ViciousVentriloquist



Category: D. Gray-man
Genre: Discussion of Abortion, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fem!Allen, Female Allen, Genderbending, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Shame, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:45:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 45
Words: 288,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3533312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousVentriloquist/pseuds/ViciousVentriloquist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under the night sky of a forest in China, he finds her. Tyki has always found the white-haired exorcist to be very enticing. It really is a shame that he has to kill her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Glint of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: While the main pairing is Tyki/fem!Allen, this story contains several instances of graphic, non-consensual (read: rape) sexual activity between them that take a toll on the main character. It's not light-hearted. If the thought of reading those kinds of scenes leaves you even a tiny bit squeamish, this story is not for you. If you aren't sure, read the first chapter and turn back around if it puts you off even a bit. I would also recommend reading all the tags.

The light is blinding.

Through the trees, Tyki can barely make out where the Fallen One's original body is. He saw the large body being destroyed, saw the white-haired exorcist girl pull the man— _what is his name again? Suman something?—_ out of the deformed monstrosity created by his Innocence. But now he can hardly see anything through the flashes of white light and thick trees. He covers his eyes and squints in pain.

_Well, isn't this annoying. I can barely see my own feet._

He holds his top hat down over his curly hair as gusts of wind blow past and through him; he doesn't want to lose it. It would be distasteful to purchase a new one. And he certainly doesn't want to borrow one of the Earl's—he really does have such gaudy taste in attire.

After a few long seconds, the air dies down, and the forest becomes utterly still. Suddenly everything is much too quiet, save for the chirping of crickets and the barely-there rustle of leaves that sway gently in the breeze. It's quite pleasurable to stand amidst the trees and listen to the sound of nighttime, but Tyki knows he has work to do—work that will definitely be much more gratifying to the Noah.

After all, he has to admit that white-haired exorcist has caught his interest. Allen Walker is on his list—and apparently, she is well-known within the Black Order  _and_ to the Earl (as Cell Roron so kindly told him). Still, if it wasn't for her being a strikingly cute human weapon with an arm made of Innocence that wanted to kill him, Tyki would have liked to be better acquainted with the girl by now.

With a hefty sigh, he sets out into the forest, intent on catching the young little exorcist. It doesn't take more than a minute or two for him to start to change his mind. It's a shame she's on his list, otherwise he would not have to be wading through thickets. He just passes through them anyway, but still. He would have preferred to wait at least until she was somewhere more enclosed and clean before approaching her. But because he was commanded to kill her as soon as possible, he must find her now. It's his best opportunity.

After a few minutes of not-so-frantic searching, Tyki hears a rustling in the leaves a few feet ahead of him. A voice calls out of the darkness. He steps silently forward into a clearing, and what he sees almost alarms him. The Fallen One is no longer in that grotesque form from earlier. He is bald and stark naked, his ears reduced to holes in the sides of his head. His eyes are blank and sightless, and drool is trailing with a sickening  _plip_  sound from the corner of his mouth.

_So his Innocence destroyed his mind. She tried to separate him, but it was futile. That's what you get for being one of God's disciples, is it? What a bad deal._ He notes with some surprise that the young woman is still talking, as if she believes the monster can hear her. He would have laughed out loud if he weren't attempting to be discrete.

"He's not dead…he's still alive. Let's send him back to be with his family."

Tyki smiles in amusement and the most miniscule amount of pity. The poor fool, thinking she can still save that mindless doll. It would be a kindness and a convenient duty on his part if he were to end his life now; the Tease Tyki had planted inside of him were still there. They had probably bred quite a lot, too.

"Tease," he says silkily, a smirk on his face. They come flocking back to him in droves, the carnivorous butterflies chewing their way viciously out of the exorcist's body. He watches with satisfaction as the young woman stares at the scene in front of her in confusion, not yet realizing what's happening. Tyki chuckles as he steps closer. "Bye-bye, Suman," he sing-songs, an evil smile on his face. She must have heard him, because she turns around. Her gaze ( _silver eyes_ , he notes with curiosity) rakes over his gentlemen's attire before coming to rest on his face, and minor shock flits through him when he recognizes her features.

It's  _her_! The girl who had bested he and his friends in that poker game on the train! His cigarette nearly falls out of his mouth as he kneels before her, his golden eyes widening. "Cheating Girl?" he says, perplexed by this turn of events.

Truth be told, he had been secretly hoping to see her again, but had not realized just how definite that outcome was. Who would have thought that she's the very same exorcist he'd been assigned to kill? Well, in hindsight, it should have been quite obvious from the moment he received her description. How many young women are there who also happen to have white hair?

The Noah snaps out of his self-inflicted mental thrashing when she begins to speak. "Who are you? What did you do to Suman?" she asks forcefully.

He grins lopsidedly at her. Not an ounce of fear in her, is there? It's endearing. Then he remembers that he's in his Noah form—a side of him she's never seen. "Oh, yeah. I guess you wouldn't recognize me unless I'm in my White Form."

"What are you talking about?"

He decides to help her. It takes only a moment for him to switch forms, but as soon as he does, she points at him with an accusatory finger.

"You!" she exclaims. "You're that bum from the train station! The one who tried to cheat Krory!"

"While I admit that I did try to strip that friend of yours of all his money, I'll have you know that I am no bum."

"Then who are you?"

He allows his skin and eyes to fade back to their Noah coloring, and an evil smirk finds its way to his face. He stands up and bows to her. "I am Sir Tyki Mikk, nobleman and proud member of the Clan of Noah. Perhaps you have heard of my family, Miss Exorcist?"

She gapes at him, anger starting to cloud her features. "The Clan of Noah? You…"

"Yes. And you are Allen Walker, are you not? There's no point denying it. Cell Roron has already told me who you are." When she doesn't respond, he keeps going. "It is my duty to find and destroy Innocence at the bidding of the Millennium Earl."

She glances around, and eyes the Tease that are fluttering around him. She looks suddenly horrified. "So you… _you_ did this to him!" She jumps to her feet, readying to hit him, and Tyki smirks again as he allows her fist to pass through him harmlessly.

"What—? Innocence, activate!" She tries to invocate her black, shriveled arm, but Tyki can see already that it's useless. He doesn't know what happened, but by the looks of it her Innocence has sustained heavy damage. There's no way she'll be able to fend him off with that useless hunk of blackened flesh. Even so, it gives off a weak light, and she gasps in pain, clutching her anti-Akuma weapon as she falls to one of her knees.

Tyki chuckles, feeling only slightly bad for her. "It's no use, girl," he says softly, sitting down beside her. "You can't take me on with your weapon in such a state. Even with it fully functional, there's no way you can beat me."

She lifts her head to look at him, her gray eyes full of pain and anguish—as well as anger.

He smiles at her. "Do you know what my power is, girl?"

She stares at him, her chest heaving. He decides to simply show her. He thrusts his arm at her chest, phasing through it with ease. Her eyes widen as she glances down at the arm that has disappeared inside her, a look of panic gracing her features. It goes away quickly when she realizes that she isn't in any pain.

"It doesn't hurt," Tyki reassures her. "I have the ability to pass through anything at will. So, if I wanted to rip your heart out of your chest while it was still beating…" He waits for the signs of terror to set in, waits for her to beg him not to, to offer him something in exchange for her life just as Suman did.

But she doesn't do any of those things. Instead, she looks right at him. Their eyes meet, and the Noah doesn't see any fear in them. There is no hesitation or terror or pleads for mercy. All he sees are two deep pools of gray, filled with anger and determination and something so very dangerous that it nearly takes his breath away. He doesn't even realize that he's been gaping at her until some time has passed.

He removes his hand, chuckling softly.  _Brilliant! She's completely brilliant_ , he thinks. "Don't worry," he says, "I'm not going to do that to you. I don't want to get my glove dirty. Also, I feel like it wouldn't bother you if I  _were_  to rip your heart out. You're a brave one, girl."

She's still staring daggers at him, so he smiles seductively. "So, Allen Walker, what _does_ bother you?"

"Nothing that you could ever do."

He laughs out loud. "Is that so? Not even killing your friend? What about that General? Yeegar, wasn't that his name? I put my Tease inside him. They ate his organs, so I'm sure he was in a lot of pain—"

He doesn't even have time to finish his sentence before he feels a stinging slap against his cheek, and his head is thrown violently to the side.

_She…she slapped me! The stupid girl!_

"How dare you," she hisses, her shriveled hand shaking with rage. "How  _dare_  you speak of him."

She raises her hand to slap him again, but Tyki grabs her wrist in time, clutching it tightly in his fist. He squeezes tighter and tighter, then gives it a short, violent jerk. He hears bones cracking before he even registers what he's done, and Allen screams in agony, her even more broken weapon falling to her lap limply.

The Noah feels a twinge of guilt, but forces it down. He leans close to her, a small smile of satisfaction on his face. "Well, that wasn't very nice. You knocked my cigarette out of my mouth. But you did tell me something very valuable as well."

"What?" she chokes out, still clutching her wrist.

"I bothered you, didn't I? You don't like when I talk about those friends of yours that I killed…what else don't you like, girl?"

Tyki is certain that if looks could kill, he would be a smoldering pile of ash right now. She is looking at him like she wants to kill him, to tear out his insides and wear them like a fine wool coat—and he has no doubt that she does.

_That animal gaze is so very…enticing_ , he thinks, his eyes narrowing as he gazes at her. "How about this?" he asks, leaning even closer to the exorcist. She scoots back, but he follows, not letting her gain any distance. He brings his face closer to hers, their mouths nearly touching. He can smell her, feel her labored breathing against his skin.

And then he sees her human hand twitch out of the corner of his eye. He is sure she fully intends on smacking him a second time. He instantly activates his power, letting her hand phase through him just as he reaches out and grabs both of her wrists, slamming her down on the ground. She lets out a choked cry; he is squeezing her broken wrist. He shifts his hold downwards to lessen her pain, then brings his eyes back to her face.

He is hovering over her, his hands pinning her down even as she writhes under him. In her weakened state, there is no way she can escape—not unless he allows it.

And that is something he has no intention of doing.

He lowers his body over hers, pressing the hard panes of his frame into her feminine ones.

_Interesting_ , he thinks slyly. He likes the way she feels under him, and despite her ravaging death glare, he has a very good idea. He smiles wide, knowing his Noah form is probably grotesque to her, and lets his eyes roam over her captivating form.

There is something he wants to do.

* * *

The disgusting man—a Noah, nonetheless—is pinning her down. She can't move, but still she tries, wriggling desperately in spite of the sharp pain that lances through her broken wrist whenever she does.

_Innocence, help me! Help me escape!_

She feels a small twinge, but nothing else happens. Her arm remains an arm—charred and useless. Has her Innocence abandoned her completely? Is it simply damaged, or is it refusing to cooperate because she tried to save Suman?

Allen doesn't know, but she does know that she has to escape this Noah, this  _Tyki Mikk,_  before he kills her and takes the Innocence.

She glares up at the man's smirking face, her expression contorting into one of even greater rage. "Get off me," she growls, trying in vain to kick him with her legs. There is no effect; he's heavy, and she can't angle her body to kick him. She's sure he would just phase through it, anyway. She can only hope that Lenalee will get back here soon and find her. But what if the Noah kills her too? What can she do? She may stand a better chance with her Dark Boots, but the last thing Allen wants is to be a burden to her friend or put her at risk.

So she sets her jaw and hardens her gaze, her silver eyes boring hatefully into the Noah's smiling face. He giggles—a harsh, sadistic sound that grates on her ears.

"No can do, girl," he says huskily, his warm breath causing her to shiver. "I rather enjoy the way you feel under me. Now then…"

He lets go of her broken wrist, and Allen tries to move it. Her limb ignores her effort; it stays prone on the ground, twitching slightly as if bound by an electrical thread.  _Damn!_

With his free hand, the Noah reaches up to her face. She closes her eyes, waiting for the blow to come, a revenge shot in return for her slapping him earlier. She is shocked beyond measure when instead, she feels only the gentle touch of fingers on her skin, brushing strands of white hair out of her eyes. She stares up at him, unable at first to form a coherent thought.

"W-what are you doing?"

"I don't like when your hair covers your face. It's such a pretty sight, really."

"You're revolting."

"Ah now, that's not very polite, is it? I offer you a gentle gesture and you react in such a hostile manner? If you would prefer, I can take this form." He reverts back to how she met him, as a human with pale skin free of stigmata.

"Go to hell."

He returns to his Noah form, laughing as if she had just told him the funniest joke imaginable. "Only if you come with me, girl."

His hand begins to travel lower, the gray palm cupping her cheek. It slides down, onto her neck, and Allen shudders unintentionally as the tips of his fingers graze over her jugular. He must realize that he could kill her so easily. But he ignores the possibility, though she can't understand why, and his hand travels lower until it comes to rest at the collar of her exorcist coat. His fingers absentmindedly play with the edge of cloth, just as the blood in Allen's veins suddenly turns to ice.

"Stop," she commands in a cracked voice, knowing his hand's next destination.

"And why would I do that, girl?" he purrs. "You seem to be getting quite flustered. Is my teasing getting to you?"

"No. I just know what you're thinking, you pervert. I grew up around a man like you," she hisses as his smirk widens.

"Ha-ha! A pervert! That hurts, girl. I may enjoy pleasure, but that doesn't make me a pervert. In fact, you seem to be the one with the dirty mind!"

His hand continues its journey south, and her heart begins to race in a panic.

"But I am more than happy to oblige…"

And then, even as she continues to protest, he grabs her breast, and her words all die in her throat. She is revolted, disgusted, horrified and nauseated. Allen can tell that he senses her hesitance; she's gone rigid, holding her breath even as she stares blankly at the trees above them.

But he doesn't stop. And she keeps staring at the trees, the bushes, the sky above.

Anywhere but at his face.

* * *

She is exhausted. She feels broken and sore, in more ways than one. There is a dull burning sensation between her legs; it hurts to move around too quickly. Her wrist is broken, and she remembers with a pang just how weakened her body already was. How powerless she was. She wants to curl up into a ball and ignore the rest of the world, but finds that she lacks the energy. She hears the Noah moving around, dry leaves crunching under his feet as he circles her limp form.

"I'm impressed, girl," he compliments her, his golden eyes shining with mirth and—if she's not mistaken—admiration. "Even though I had you pinned down, you kept telling me to stop. You didn't want to make it easy for me, did you? Well, unfortunately, your power failed you." He kneels down next to her. She tells her limbs to strike out at him, to attack, but they stubbornly refuse to obey her. "I must admit, I don't usually do this."

Before she can think about it, Allen spits into his face. It's no use—it passes right through him, and he smirks at her attempt. "That wasn't very nice. In any case, this was fun—but I'm afraid I have to go get back to work now. Let's start with that Innocence of yours—the other one, I mean."

Pain. That's the next thing that enters Allen's mind. There is a bright flash of light, and a paralyzing pain in her left arm. She screams bloody murder, sure that she is dying, and dimly hears the sound of something breaking. When she becomes lucid again, she stares in front of her—and what she sees nearly causes her to pass out from shock.

Her Innocence is lying a few feet away.

Tyki saunters over to it. "Did you know that Noah also have the ability to destroy Innocence?" he asks. "Let's find out if yours is the heart."

"Stop," she whispers, but she is exhausted, and her voice is barely a rasp. "Please, Mikk. Don't destroy it…" He ignores her, not that she expected him to listen, and tears finally begin to flow. Beams that vaguely resemble lightning shoot from his hand and into her severed arm, and Allen feels the sting as though she had been stabbed in the heart. " _Stop!_ " she screams over and over, to no avail. Tyki holds her Innocence in the palm of his hand, and with one clench, it shatters. The particles are carried away by the wind, along with Allen's last remaining hope.

No—she can still do one thing.

Before Tyki approaches her, she sends Timcampy away with Suman's Innocence, praying that the golem will find the others safely.

"Hm. That was smart. Foolish, though."

"I have hope," she tells him quietly, her eyes fluttering closed. "He'll make it. As long as I have hope…"

"You're brave to the end, girl. I like people like you. I think I should give people like you some time before they die, so…" He produces a large, ugly Tease in the palm of his hand, and she feels a peculiar sense of dread as he lowers the creature towards her. "Tease, open a hole in her heart, okay?"

Allen's heart skips a beat at the reference to its demise.

_Is this it? Am I really going to die here? Is this how it's going to be...?_

Accompanied by this final thought is a stabbing pain in her heart, and as the world fades away, the last thing she sees is a glint of gold.

* * *

Tyki watches as the young woman loses consciousness, her skin beginning to pale instantly. She sighs, and it almost seems like a sigh of relief.

He, on the other hand, does not know what he is feeling. He sits there for a few minutes, watching the girl's body until her breathing becomes shallow, then undetectable. He supposes she is dead. He also supposes that this is for the best. Now that it's done, he should be able to get up and walk away. But he finds himself stuck where he is: staring intently at her now-lifeless form, a body once so full of life and vitality that is now bruised and broken; the remnants of tears still glisten on her pale skin. They catch the moonlight and sparkle, an image that leaves him feeling somewhat morose. For propriety's sake, he redresses her, letting his fingers linger over her marble skin for longer than is necessary.

_It really is a shame that I had to kill her,_  he thinks as he gets up and walks out of the clearing, readjusting his clothes and top hat and lighting up a cigarette. He can't help but think that he would like to see her again someday for another round of cards—no matter how impossible that event is. Musing over her unfortunate fate is pointless. He's above normal humans. Even so, he's given her quite a bit more thought than he has any of the others he's killed.

"Hmph," he exhales as a cloud of smoke billows around him, instantly relaxing his tense muscles. His mental resolve matters little when these feelings will not leave him alone. He sighs in aggravation.  _Perhaps they will go away in time. Soon enough, I will have more work to do, and I will forget all about the unfortunate girl called Allen Walker._

He releases another cloud of smoke, watching as the wisps and tendrils of tobacco disperse among the dark sky, blotting out the stars but leaving a sliver of moon intact.

_China certainly is beautiful_ , he thinks.


	2. A Vault of Memories

 

"It's amazing. Your newly recovered Innocence is extremely powerful."

Bak Chang looks more enthusiastic than Allen feels about her new arm, but perhaps that's because he's a scientist. He lives for these kinds of new, unheard-of discoveries.

Allen Walker is a bit different. All the female exorcist cares about at the moment is if her recently dubbed "Crown Clown" is powerful enough to save everyone—humans and Akuma alike. So she doesn't say much, just utters "Good" with a large smile on her face. Because she  _is_  happy that her anti-Akuma weapon is back—in fact, happier than she's been in a long while.

"We've restored communications with Headquarters, Director," one of the men sitting at the large monitors informs Bak, then goes back to looking at pictures of Allen's newly restored weapon on the screen.

The phone starts to ring, drawing the blonde scientist's attention away from Allen. "Good!" he exclaims. "We'll talk later, Allen."

"Yes, sir."

She starts to walk out of the room, only mildly irritated at Bak's neglect. However, as she heads towards the door, she stops and turns her head back around. "Director Bak…no matter what Chief Komui says, I'm going to board the Ark."

Without waiting for a reply, the white-haired woman walks out, a purposeful bounce in her gait. She means every word of it; no beret-wearing, robot-building, sister-obsessed Chief is going to stop her from using that Ark to return to her friends.

As she saunters down the hall, Allen savors the sensation of once again having an arm, of having to carry around the extra weight on her left side. It has been far too long since she's felt it. Before it had been ripped off, it had never occurred to her just how much she cherishes having an arm made out of Innocence, as opposed to an equip-type. When it had been taken, she had felt…lost, like not only her arm had been stolen, but an entire other part of herself.

And that wasn't the only thing that had been taken from her.

Despite the young woman's unwavering optimism, she had experienced something _that night_ that had completely changed her.

_Tyki Mikk._  That is the name of the Noah who had tried to destroy her—not just physically, but mentally and spiritually as well. Physically, he had not succeeded—Allen's body had recovered and, in fact, had become even stronger than before.

Yet what he had done to her had taken more of a mental toll than anything else. It was still taking it, in fact. She had never told anyone, and she is frankly amazed by the fact that no one—not even Fou, who had found her—had ever addressed it or brought it up. Well, maybe it's not so surprising. She had taken tentative steps to ensure that no one else ever found out her secret, and Fou is not the type of person who enjoys having to tackle emotional issues head on.

Yet the guardian deity had still acted in a way that spoke volumes. Allen knows that Fou knows, but the guardian had never outright asked her about it. And for that, the exorcist is grateful.

As she thinks back to the day she woke up in the Asian Branch, she once again recalls the turmoil of that time.

* * *

Where am I?  _This is what Allen Walker thought as she opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room, her eyes immediately assaulted by white. There was white on the walls, on the bed, on the sheets and even on the bandages around her chest and arm._

_Her arm. Her arm was gone, and her other hand was wrapped up so tightly in bandages that it was a challenge to even wiggle her fingers._

_As images and sensations from her last waking moments entered her mind in a morbid montage, the girl sucked in a deep breath. All of a sudden, her heart felt as though it were trapped in a steel vice. Memories of the Noah's hands on her and inside of her assaulted her senses. She soon became hyperaware of the dull ache between her legs, and the raw throbbing spots on her neck from where he had sucked and bit at her skin._

_She knew it had been no dream._

_A wheezing sob broke free from her chest, and hot, salty tears began to drip from her closed eyelids and onto the pillow underneath her. So caught up was she in her misery that she failed to sense the presence of the person sleeping beside her until they awoke and began speaking._

" _Hey, you're awake."_

_Allen gasped, her eyes opening to take in the foreign appearance of a girl she had never seen before. Her orange hair and strange attire were not what the exorcist had taken notice of first, however—it had been the look of pity on her face, an expression that she loathed above all else._

" _W-who are you?" she managed to get out, her voice barely a whisper._

_The small girl handed her a cup of water for her parched mouth, which Allen greedily drank, savoring the feeling of the cool liquid caressing her dry throat._

" _I'm Fou," the orange-haired girl said matter-of-factly. "And I'm the one that found you. I'm also the warrior that guards this place. Welcome to the Asian Branch of the Black Order." Her introduction was strikingly casual, and her magenta eyes flitted to Allen's face, suddenly taking on a more serious tone. "You were pretty beat up when I found you. Your uniform was nearly ripped to shreds. I threw it away. I also cleaned you up—I figured you would want a girl to do it, anyway. I took the liberty of borrowing some bandages from Wong so I could patch you up, too."_

_It was only then that Allen realized that her neck was bandaged as well, even though she could not recall having received any wounds there. Was she forgetting something? At the moment, however, she found herself too tired and sore to care._

_So she simply smiled a broken smile up at Fou, trying in vain to staunch the flow of her tears. She didn't want to attract any more attention to herself. "Thank you for saving my life, Fou. I owe you a great debt. My name is Allen Walker."_

* * *

_She had nightmares almost every night for weeks afterward, and even when she didn't, she always awoke more exhausted than she had been when she went to sleep. Terrifying images of golden eyes and glimpses of butterflies soaked in blood haunted her every time she closed her eyes. She would wake screaming in the middle of the night, and when she finally opened her eyes it would only be because Fou had slapped her or shaken her shoulders until she did. On occasion, even Fou's hands would morph, feeling more masculine and firm than her small, petite ones, and in those moments, nightmare met reality._

_Allen could not get the sadistic Noah to leave her alone, even in unconsciousness._

_One night, when she had managed to wake up with no incident and stumbled to the conjoined bathroom, she had looked into a mirror for the first time in what felt like ages._

_She had nearly started sobbing when she first saw herself. She looked much paler and gaunt—even somewhat sickly. As though she had been locked up in a windowless room for months on end, even though it hadn't been that long. Her eyes were dull and lifeless, more akin to a scuffed gray color than the silver they had once been. Her hair looked greasy, even though it had been washed only the day before._

_Suddenly, her eyes drifted to the bandages that were still wrapped around her neck, and she grew curious once again. She began to unwrap them, wondering just why Fou had gone to the trouble of doing that every time she took a bath._

_When she finally unwrapped them all, she drew in a sharp gasp._

_Fading, greenish-blue bruises marred her pale skin, creating a morbid pattern that matched the ones on her hips and torso. They no longer throbbed as they had when she first awoke (now she realized what that feeling had been), but they still smarted slightly when she ran her fingers gently over them. All at once, Allen understood why Fou had covered them for her._

_They looked like a disease._

_She said a silent "Thank you" to the guardian deity as tears once again fell from her eyes, landing soundlessly on the tile beside her feet. She quickly rewrapped the bandages and took a deep breath. She inhaled through her nose, and all she could smell was the taint of her own body, the essence of death, of disease, of something unfathomably ominous._

_She threw up into the sink._

* * *

_Training with Fou definitely helped her. Not only did it help her to get back on her feet, but it also instilled in her a new sense of confidence. It reinforced her drive to retrieve the anti-Akuma weapon that Tyki Mikk had destroyed, and to finally get back to her friends._

_She still wanted to fight._

_She was still an exorcist, so she had to. That was what she told herself every time Fou kicked her into a pillar. Her sole purpose in life was to get back to her friends, to help them defeat the Earl and his army of Noahs and Akuma—and to free all of the tortured souls in the process._

_So why couldn't she retrieve her Innocence?_

_What was holding her back?_

* * *

_On another night, after a long day of vigorous training (which consisted mainly of her getting kicked around by Fou), Allen woke up in more pain than she had felt in her entire life._

_She gasped as she awoke, looking around the room in a panic. She was confused when she realized she was alone—surely someone must have been stabbing her in the stomach? That could be the only explanation for this kind of torment._

_Her lower abdomen had been throbbing in agony, as though it had been set on fire. Meanwhile, sharp pains were also stabbing through her, making her stomach contract every time._

_Was she dying?_

_She threw off her covers, releasing a strangled yelp when the movement only increased the torture tenfold. She hobbled to the bathroom, leaving her one hand on the wall at all times so as to not lose balance and fall._

_When she got inside, she hurriedly lit a candle, the dim light allowing her to at least make out a faint silhouette of the objects in the room. With a jolt of terror, she recognized the sensation of something wet on her undergarments. She immediately panicked-it wasn't that time yet, and it had certainly never been this painful! It hadn't even been..._

_That's when she realized how long it had actually been since her last cycle-far longer than a month._

_She pulled her pants down with a wince, collapsing down onto the toilet._

_Then, she simply stared in mute horror and shock at the hideous stain on her underpants. They were streaked with red, almost completely soaked through with what Allen could only assume was blood. The iron smell made her gag with its pungent quality._

_Suddenly, another jolt of pain lanced through her womb, and she vaguely heard the echo of something dripping from her into the toilet._

_It was unbearable. It was horrifying. She was in agony, and she was alone, experiencing something that no one should ever have to go through by themselves. Actually, never mind the fact that she was alone—what person should have to experience this at all?_

_After what seemed to Allen like hours, and probably was, the pain ebbed. She finally managed to stop clutching her stomach and crying silent tears, and she hastily removed her bloody underwear and put her unsoiled pants back on. She solemnly cleaned herself off with a wet cloth, then flushed the toilet and left the spoiled garments in the trashcan._

_By the next morning, they were gone._

* * *

Allen comes back to the present when she realizes that she has stopped outside a large doorway. She smiles gingerly and goes inside, wondering why her body has chosen to bring her here of its own accord.

"Fou?" she calls into the huge, seemingly empty room. She does not know where to look when addressing the guardian deity, but she settles for up.

"Hey there, brat," Fou's voice calls back to her, her disembodied voice echoing loudly within the large stone walls.

Allen grins sadly. "I'm leaving now. I wanted to say goodbye, I guess."

"Is that it? You came to disturb me from my much-needed rest just so you could say goodbye?" Fou is trying to sound angry, but Allen can sense that she is happy to have been remembered. That, or she is simply too tired to bother sounding pissed.

"Not quite. I wanted to thank you for helping me to regain my Innocence, and for…encouraging me. I suppose…I couldn't have done any of it without you. And…" She swallows, sure that she is about to regret her next words. "…I also wanted to thank you for…keeping my secret."

There is a pregnant pause. "I see."

Allen's throat is dry, too dry to form strong words, but she still continues. "And I guess I would like to ask why you did that. Kept it a secret, I mean."

Fou is silent for so long that the exorcist begins to wonder if she has fallen asleep. But then, she responds. "I knew what had happened as soon as I brought you back here. The marks, the bruises, the stains…it didn't take much of a genius to figure out. And as soon as I saw the look in your eyes when you woke up, I was certain.

"The Black Order has been at war a long time—but so have humans in general. It's not uncommon for some people to…take advantage of each other's weakness. Especially women. I've been around a long time, so I've…seen things, I guess you could say. And I kept it quiet because…well, I figured you would tell us if you wanted to. You can't push people into these types of things. So, I just cleaned up after you."

Allen feels a single tear slide down her cheek, and she wipes it away stubbornly. "Fou, I…I don't know what to say…"

"Don't say anything, brat. Just get back to those friends of yours. You've got spirit, Walker. Someone like you should be on the battlefield. Someone like you…" Fou's voice tapers off slightly, evidence of her remaining exhaustion. Allen can tell that it's all she can do to keep from falling asleep, or whatever it is she does to get rest. She takes the hint, and raises her hand to her forehead in a respecting salute.

"I got it, Fou. I'm going now…thank you."

And then she walks out, leaving behind the one being in the world—besides that bastard of a Noah—who knows her secret. She heads towards the largest room in the Asian Branch, the place where Noah's Ark had appeared.

It is still very crowded when she gets there, with the large, glowing geometric portal hovering in the center of the room. Dozens, if not a hundred, scientists are standing purposefully around it, not getting too close (for safety reasons) but clearly wanting to examine the strange anomaly.

Allen shares their curiosity, but for a different reason. To her, it looks all at once foreign and familiar, but she cannot pinpoint why.

_Why do I get this strange feeling when I look at it?_

"Allen, come here!" Bak yells from behind her, interrupting her thought. She saunters over to the director, who gives her what appears to be a strange earring. "Wear this in your ear," he says with finality.

She reluctantly puts it on. "Uh…what is this?"

"A new communicator I've been working on. Our normal communications golems aren't durable enough to withstand entering the Ark." He gestures to a pile of the broken contraptions, and Allen swallows, glad that Timcanpy isn't a part of that unfortunate group.

Suddenly, the device crackles in Allen's ear, and a familiar voice speaks up.

" _Can you hear me, Allen?"_

There's no mistaking it. "Chief Komui?! Is something wrong? Why are you—?"

" _Not at all! As your superior, it's my job to see to it that you don't put yourself in any danger."_

"What?"

" _We don't yet know whether or not that thing is Noah's Ark. We know that it seems to be some kind of teleportation device, but we still don't have much information on it. It could be a trap to lure you somewhere. So, we're going to come with you. Not physically, of course, but if it starts getting dangerous or strange, I want you to get out immediately."_

"Not a chance, Chief! There's no way I'm running away from this." After everything that Allen had gone through to get back to the battlefield…she would be damned if she is going to back out now. Perhaps she already is, and in that case it shouldn't matter what she did.

The Chief giggles lightly on the other side.  _"You're still stubborn, Allen. But remember, everyone in the Order cares about you. So at least try not to get hurt, okay? Know when to escape."_

She knows any further arguing is useless, so she relents. "Fine! You win." Internally, however, she crosses her fingers. She's waited long enough to rejoin the battle. It's time to return to her friends.

Just as she is about to board the stairs leading up to the Ark, she hears her name being called. She whips around in surprise to see three people running up to her.

"Walker-san!" Lou Fa calls breathlessly as she comes to a rapid stop, Rikei and Shifu right beside her. She holds something up in the palm of her hand, and Allen starts when she realizes just what it is.

It's her deck of cards—the very same ones Tyki Mikk had given to her on the train. She had nearly forgotten about them; when she had woken up at the Asian Branch, they hadn't been with her. The white-haired exorcist had assumed that Fou had thrown them away along with her soiled exorcist uniform.

Yet here they are, in as good condition as ever.

Lou Fa is explaining what had happened in a hurried tone. "We noticed that your Ace of Spades was missing, so the three of us made you a new one."

"Uh…thanks, Lou Fa. Rikei, Shifu. This…means a lot." She slips the deck into her coat pocket and turns back around, saluting everyone as they all exclaim their goodbyes. She supposes that she should be more grateful, but in truth, the cards' entrance back into her life is unsettling. They had been a gift, but not one that she had wanted to keep. Allen tries to avoid thinking of it right now. She has too much on her mind.

Like the possibility that she might be seeing the Noah of Pleasure again very soon. It seems that he never grows tired of trying to destroy her. What was it that the Level Three had said?

* * *

" _Who sent you here?" Allen asked after trapping the Level Three with her Crown Clown. "And where were you told to take me?"_

" _Heh heh heh…it was the Noah!"_

_And then, he said something that made the exorcist's heart skip a beat._

" _It was Tyki Mikk!"_

* * *

He had told her that her friends were in Edo, along with the Earl and five Noahs—including the Noah of Pleasure. He had also told her to board Noah's Ark and allow it to take her there.

She sighs. She had known that eventually, she would have to face him again, but the thought of seeing him so soon causes her to shudder in dread.

But she pushes those feelings aside and squares her shoulders, trying to ready herself for what she will see on the other side of the Ark.

For what she will see when she arrives in Edo.

" _Are you ready, Allen?"_  Komui's voice reassures her, and she holds her chin high.

She takes the first steps towards the unknown, and she inhales deeply. "Yes, Chief."

And then, Allen takes her first step into the Ark.

* * *

_This long-haired swordsman certainly is a nuisance_ , Tyki thinks with a smile as he tries to dodge the man's rapid attacks.  _Still, he will not best me. Not when I'm holding one of his comrades hostage. However, this girl certainly is heavier than she looks._

But there is something else on the Noah's mind as he expertly weaves around the samurai's attacks, trying to hold onto the green-haired girl.

Allen Walker. The last he had heard, Cell Roron had told him that she is alive. Tyki knows that is impossible, even if he had sent a Level Three after her just in case.

It can't be so. He destroyed her Innocence—he opened a hole in her heart with his Tease! It's simply impossible.

He narrowly misses being hit by one of the samurai's blades, managing to dodge under the sword at the last moment. He meets the next blow with a flash of pink light, knocking the both of them a few feet away from each other. They begin to circle each other, and Tyki grins gleefully. "What's wrong, Mr. Kitchen Knife? Isn't this fun?" he teases. "Or are you getting a bit tired?"

He doesn't respond; from what Tyki can gather, this exorcist is a man of few words.

He is pretty good with a katana, too.

Tyki snickers evilly, and makes a split-second decision. He lets go of the girl, allowing her limp body to plummet over the edge of the roof they are fighting on. He catches a glimpse of the redhead from earlier flying in on his hammer to catch her, then resumes the battle.

As Tyki meets him blow for blow, he notices that the samurai seems somehow even more energetic than before, probably because the Noah had just tried to kill his comrade.

"You seem angry, Exorcist. Is it because I tried to kill your lady-friend?" The blue-haired man ignores him, instead going for another swipe with his blade. "You know, apparently this isn't the first time I've tried to kill a friend of yours and been thwarted. You exorcists really are like cockroaches sometimes. That woman called Allen Walker also refused to die, apparently, even after I tore off her arm and made a hole in her heart."

The swordsman still does not falter. If anything, his next blow is even stronger, knocking Tyki a few feet back.

The Noah smiles prettily at him. "Do you know where she is now, Exorcist? I would love to see her again."

This, surprisingly enough, is true. Although Tyki is still not entirely convinced that Allen Walker is alive—he would like to see her with his own eyes, thank you very much—the prospect of it  _is_  somewhat appealing. The thought of it, dare he say it, even excites him. It's been too long since he's felt the kind of thrill that she had given him. He craves more of it.

Fighting one lone blue-haired samurai is not nearly enough to satiate his thirst. Finally, however, his opponent speaks up, but it is not what Tyki expects to hear.

"Stop talking nonsense, you idiot. I couldn't give a damn about the moyashi."

Tyki may not be the sharpest person alive, but he can certainly tell that the swordsman is lying.

And this, for whatever reason, irks him.

With a maniacal laugh, Tyki gathers all of his power in the palm of his hand, igniting a ball of pink light so bright and blinding that it even causes the samurai to squint in pain. Sparks of electricity seem to radiate from the Noah's palm, reaching out to grab playfully at the air around him.

There is an expression of pure ecstasy on his face, and his golden eyes widen with malice. Tyki prepares to lunge straight for the man in front of him, seeking nothing more than the satisfaction of his death.

Yet right before he makes his move, he hears something he had genuinely believed he would never hear again.

A voice, so full of shock, anguish, and fear, strikes something in the gray-skinned man's chest not because of its tone, but because of its familiarity.

It's Allen Walker's voice.

" _Kanda!"_

* * *

When Allen opens her eyes, it's in a place she does not recognize, yet also does.

It is what looks like a Mediterranean town lined with white, cookie-cutter houses and potted plants of such a vibrant green as to be painful to her eyes. She has never been here before, and yet she has.

_What is this feeling?_  she thinks as goose-bumps begin to erupt all over her skin. It is not cold, yet they still grow, as if warning her of something horrible and imminent.

" _Allen, is everything okay?"_ Komui's voice chirps in her ear, dragging her back to the moment at hand.

"Uh, yeah…it's just…not what I expected." She relays the details to him, omitting the fact that she feels as though she has been here before. She wanders aimlessly around the Ark, trying not to get lost but also observing as much as she can.

Soon, however, she realizes that she is far from being lost. Her body seems to understand this place, and knows where it is leading her. So she listens politely to Komui ranting and raving about the party he will throw when everyone returns until, at last, she arrives at a door.

For some strange reason, she knows this is the place she's looking for. She recognizes its unremarkable pattern, its unmistakable presence. She knows this door will take her to the place she needs to go.

To Edo.

With no hesitation, she steps inside. At first, everything is dark. But then, out of nowhere, Allen feels her body start to twist and turn, as though she is being forced through an opening that is far too small for her. It is suffocating and uncomfortable, but also feels…right, somehow. It is a sensation she has experienced before.

_Where is all of this Déjà vu coming from?_

But she doesn't have much time to think about it, because almost as soon as she steps through the door, the sensation passes, and she is once again standing on solid ground.

Well, maybe not solid. Allen comes back to the booming sounds of destruction all around her, and an awful trembling.

She is standing on a rooftop overlooking a city whose very foundation seems to be shaking.

_An earthquake? No…_

She looks around, and what she sees makes her breath catch in her throat.

There are multiple giant Akuma, larger than any other that she's ever seen, destroying the city around her. They groan deeply as their lanky, nightmarish bodies ravage the city around them. One of them is shooting what appears to be pink lightning from its body, reducing many of the buildings to mere splinters of wood.

She just barely manages to activate her Crown Clown before a beam of the light strikes her, sending her flying into another house. Jolts of pain radiate throughout her back and head, and she knows it is only because of her Innocence that she survived.

"Ouch," she mumbles as a chunk of plaster falls on her forehead from the crumbling hole in the roof above her.

Surprisingly, the silhouette of a head pokes itself into her line of vision, hovering above her. Allen instantly recognizes him—that eye-patch and shock of fiery red hair is unmistakable.

"Lavi," she gasps, a smile breaking out onto her face at the sight of her friend. Lenalee is also beside him—only her hair is much shorter now, the once-long locks of green now cut haphazardly into a pretty pageboy haircut that compliments her nicely. Their faces are both covered in bandages.

"Allen-chan! Are you really here?" Lenalee asks in a panic.

Lavi just looks surprised. "Yo, Allen," the redhead greets, flashing her a lopsided grin. "Nice of ya to finally drop in. It would've been nice to know that you were still alive, though."

"Sorry about that," she responds, pushing herself up to her feet. "I was…busy."

Lenalee smiles, and her eyes fill with tears at the sight of her returned friend. "Well, you're back now. That's all that matters."

"Listen, Allen," Lavi interjects. "Yuu needs some help. Bookman, Krory and I are trying to kill those things, but he's fighting a Noah all alone right now—"

That's all she needs to hear before bursting out of the building, intent on lending a hand to the irritable samurai. She sees the tell-tale flashes of light even from her distance, and immediately propels herself towards the ongoing battle with her Innocence.

_I'm coming, Kanda_ , she thinks.  _Just hold out a little longer._

If her memory serves her correctly, the Noah are very nearly immortal, and have existed throughout history. She also knows firsthand just how powerful they are.

So there's no way she's going to let Kanda fight one of them alone.

As she approaches the ongoing battle, she starts to make out the shapes of the two opponents. Kanda is moving as gracefully as ever, his lithe body and even his hair managing to successfully dodge the bursts of light that are being spewed in his direction. She can see that they are talking to each other, but she can't make out the words—

She freezes when she suddenly recognizes the Noah.

It's him. Tyki Mikk is circling Kanda as a hawk circles a possum overhead. For a moment, the exorcist's heart stops. She is frozen, standing stock-still on the rooftop of a nearby house. Her Innocence seems to be tugging on her, pulling her body towards the fight even as her mind rejects the idea.

She hadn't known this would happen when she finally saw Tyki again. She had not foreseen that his presence would affect her so much, but it does—and now she finds she doesn't  _want_  to move. Her body seems to be petrified, but is simultaneously struggling against her restraint.

She feels terrified, but underneath that, there is another emotion: it is bubbling up to the surface, seeking nothing more than to be in the midst of that battle.

Allen is shocked once again as she sees Tyki laugh like a madman, drawing a great amount of energy into his palm.

He is going to kill Kanda.

Suddenly, she finds her voice. " _Kanda!"_

Her body moves of its own accord. She shoots towards the two of them, screaming her battle cry as she hurdles into the fray. She isn't sure, but she thinks she sees Tyki tense up when he hears her voice.

But it must be an illusion. After that, there is nothing but a bright flash of light, and Allen's vision is completely obscured. She feels her body slam into someone else's, shoving them out of the way just as Tyki's attack hits her dead on.

" _Cross Grave!"_  she shouts, feeling the Innocence reach up like a veil to protect her from the Noah's blow. There is nothing but chaos around her as the surge of power pummels her Innocence. A few moments later, she is still yelling, even as the light dies down to nothing.

For a moment, all is still. Her eyes begin to adjust quickly, and she finds that the blow has forced her a few feet back, although she is still standing on the roof. She is panting and brandishing her new arm out in front of her in a protective stance. She looks up, her chest heaving, and lays her eyes upon the very same person who had been haunting her dreams for weeks.

Tyki Mikk is standing before her, looking as dumbfounded as Allen is invigorated. Kanda's voice calls out from behind her, irate but also shocked. Evidently, he had been the person she had just knocked out of the way.  _Thank God._

" _Moyashi?"_  he exclaims.

"It's Allen," she states firmly, staring into Tyki's golden eyes as she does so. "Allen Walker."

His cat's eyes have never looked so perplexed, just as his body has never been so still.

After a tense minute of silence, he finally responds. "So…you're really alive?" he proclaims comically. "That's a surprise."

"Why should it be?" She raises her arm, getting into her fight stance. "And now, I will end your life, Tyki Mikk."

"Are you sure about that? I would rather play another round of cards with you. It was quite fun the first time."

She takes a step forward, but as soon as she does so, something twitches inside her.

And then, crippling pain blossoms inside her skull, blinding the young woman for a moment. She gasps painfully as she grabs her head with her human hand, but manages to hold herself up.

For some reason she cannot fathom, the Noah in front of her feels it too. He takes a hasty step backwards, one gray hand flying up to rest on his forehead. It may be hurting him less than her, but its effect is still apparent.

"What—?" Allen gasps, fisting her white hair in her hand.

Tyki stumbles a bit, then blinks in confusion and gives an angry snarl. "What have you  _done_ , Exorcist?"

Allen takes another stubborn step forward, causing her to fall to her knees. Tyki growls deeply.

"I haven't—" she chokes out, her human fingers digging into the sides of her head. She gazes up at the Noah of Pleasure, whose doubled image is staring back at her in bewilderment and pain. "I haven't done…anything…"

The lights turned off.

 


	3. A Strand of Hair

Tyki has no choice but to watch, riveted, as Allen Walker collapses right in front of him.

No choice because anything he _could_ do is an unlikely option while his head is aching so badly. It doesn’t matter, though, because as soon as her body goes limp, the blue-haired samurai dives forward, catching her in his arms. His katana is still clutched in one hand, but lies pointed behind him for the moment. Tyki thinks that this is the perfect time to strike. The pair is defenseless even if only for a second, completely at the Noah’s mercy.

If only he could think straight; it feels as though something is hammering away inside his head. The shock and pain caused by this woman’s presence is doing something strange to him.

He staggers backwards, his hand running pointlessly over his eyes, as though wanting to physically claw the migraine from his skull. And there is something else that is bothering him, too—a sinking feeling lodged deep in his gut that almost makes him want to look away from the sight before him.

_Those damn exorcists. Why did she have to come here? And how does she have that arm?_

“Yuu! Allen!” A familiar voice makes itself known, and Tyki places it as that red-haired, eye-patched kid he had met on the train.

Sure enough, the fool comes soaring right at him, landing on the roof with his hammer just in time to take a swing at the Noah. He dodges, but only barely: the pain in his head has made it difficult to move as fast, much less use his power quickly. Surprisingly enough, he finds that the unbearable sensation lessens the moment he jumps backwards, away from the white-haired girl.

 _Is it because of her? Is she the source of this pain?_ It’s a ludicrous conclusion, but Tyki cannot find an explanation to dispute it. She had felt the same sensation as he.

Out of nowhere, two other silhouettes come flying onto the roof, boxing the curly-haired Noah in quite splendidly. Kanda—which he can only assume is the samurai’s name—is still holding the unconscious girl, seeing the arrival of his comrades as an opportunity to check for a pulse.

The sight of it makes him want to retch, but instead he grins. “Well, it seems you’ve closed in on me, Exorcists.” He laughs heartily. “I suppose I must be on my way, then. You, Mr. Kitchen Knife!” He directs his gaze to the swordsman, who looks up at him with an expression of hatred and disdain. “Take care of that girl, will you? I expect to see her again in the near future!”

With that, Tyki sinks through the roof of the house, hearing the Exorcists’ shouts of anger from above him. He phases into the ground, transcending the boundaries of space as he travels underground, out of Edo. It’s a bit disorienting, but as he finally emerges outside of the city limits and next to a large expanse of ocean, he feels strange.

 _Travelling that way is so very dizzying. It is convenient, though_. He wonders where the Earl and the other Noah went, if they’re back at home yet. _Well, there’s only one way to find out._

* * *

 When he comes back home, it’s to shouts and whines of complaint.

_Well, it seems Jasdero and Devitto are back._

“Cross is a devil! That bastard left us all of his debt,” Devitto rages, waving around a stack of bills.

“And some for his pupil too, hee hee!” Jasdero chimes in, popping up next to his twin.

“This Cross Marian really does seem to be a nuisance, doesn’t he?”

The Millennium Earl is sitting at the head of the table, his large behind turned towards the Noah of Pleasure. No one has noticed that Tyki is here yet—except for Road, who is staring at him with a small smirk on her face.

As Jasdero and Devitto continue to rant about their troublesome charge, Road acknowledges Tyki’s presence.

“Why hello, Tyki. So nice of you to come back home! Where have you been?”

All eyes, including Skin’s, who had been working on a large fudge sundae, turn to the other Noah, who _hmphs_ in annoyance.

“I could ask the same of you, dear Road. I was being attacked by five exorcists back there in Edo. It took me a few minutes to get away.”

“Tyki! I’m surprised at you! Have you gone soft?”

He decides to ignore Road’s incessant teasing and instead opts to sit down at the table, leaning his face into one of his gloved hands. Even amidst the insufferable chatter from the twins, Tyki finds himself tired. His eyelids are drooping from a long day of work, and he wants nothing more than to escape somewhere in order to find rest.

He senses Road watching him out of the corner of her eye, only to hear her speak up a few moments later.

“So, what about Cross’s pupil? This Allen Walker—she was Tyki’s target, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, Road, but it seems as though Tyki-pon failed in killing her and destroyed her Innocence as he had told us he did,” the Millennium Earl reports, his face turning towards Tyki’s slouched form.

The Noah of Pleasure mentally growls at Road, shooting her a glare out of the corner of his eye. _Thanks a lot, dear Road_ , he thinks, grunting in response. “What about her?”

Road giggles through her clasped hands, irritating Tyki further. “Oh, nothing. Just that she seems much stronger now, is all. Different, too. I wonder if something happened to her?”

Tyki’s golden eyes narrow slightly. Is Road toying with him? Does she know something about what he did? Is she going to tell the Millennium Earl? He doesn’t know exactly how the fat man will respond to his recreational activities, but he can’t imagine that he will look upon this in a favorable light. The whole deal of “fraternizing with the enemy,” and whatnot.

He sighs, trying to appear nonchalant. “Who cares? What matters is that she somehow retrieved her Innocence.”

The Earl nods. “Tyki-pon is correct. Indeed, we cannot focus on such trivial matters, Road. We must focus on defeating the exorcists. Though, you do bring up a particular point I wanted to address.”

Everyone at the table has gone completely silent. Even Lero, who is normally muttering his own name absentmindedly, has ceased his annoying mumbling.

“I must admit,” the Earl begins, “this Allen Walker has always seemed to enjoy getting in my way. From the very beginning of her life, she has managed to thwart me somehow…and now this. I do not know why, but this strange new Innocence of hers…it bothers me. I feel that she will do anything to stop us—because she’s a demon, too.”

That’s a new one. Tyki even sits up a little straighter in his seat in response to the Earl’s admission. The infallible Maker of Akuma, bothered by Allen Walker? By one measly exorcist who even Tyki himself had managed to subdue with fairly little trouble? Then again, that had been before the woman had regained her Innocence and her new anti-Akuma weapon. Could she really be that much stronger now? So much more formidable?

Tyki thinks back to not even that long ago, when simply being near her had caused his head to feel as though it were splitting open. Her proximity had been poisonous. He hadn’t felt pain like that since…well, since he had first been awakened as a Noah.

His eyes widen. Could that be it? Is the Noah inside of him somehow trying to reach Allen, to interact with her?

But why? That hypothesis makes sense on his end, perhaps, but it had seemed as though her head had been hurting too.

_She is also affected by my presence. But she isn’t a Noah, so how is that possible? Perhaps the sheer force of the Noah inside me was connecting with her. That might have been enough to cause her to lose consciousness, but…I’ve never heard of that happening before._

He needs more information; that is the root of the problem.

But no matter the situation, one thing remains clear: he is connected, in some way, shape, or form, to Allen Walker.

“Tyki!” Road’s high-pitched whine once again distracts him, and he glares at her in annoyance.

“What is it, Road?”

“You seem distracted. Are you thinking deeply about something?” Her blue hair seems even spikier that usual as she teases him, and a playful grin adorns her face.

He sighs, running his hand through his slicked-back hair. “I am a bit tired, if you must know. I think I’ll take an early night tonight.”

His family—excluding Lulu Bell, who is off most likely causing more mischief—bids him goodnight as he retires, happy to be out of that room. He heads towards the room that Road had created for him, intent on returning to his thoughts as well as sleeping on his bed.

As soon as his head hits the pillow, he falls into a deep sleep.

* * *

 

He is woken only when his body is jostled by the movement of the bed.

His golden eyes snap open in shock, and he sits up, searching for the intruder. It is almost too dark to see properly, and he blinks desperately in an attempt to make his eyes adjust faster.

_Lulu Bell’s cat-like eyes would come in handy right about now._

The bed moves again, springing up as though someone had just gotten up.

“Who’s there?” he asks forcefully but suavely, making his voice terrifyingly stoic. No one answers, but he is suddenly able to see as he registers the flick of a match, and a bright light illuminates the room.

His eyes close out of reflex, and when he opens them, the room is alight. A candle is lit next to his bed, bathing the entire room in a soft yellow glow.

Not only that, but there is a person standing in the middle of his room, glancing at him with familiar silvery irises. Tyki’s own eyes nearly pop out of his head. There isn’t much that can surprise him, but this time is one of them.

How the hell did Allen Walker get into his room?

 For the time being, he ignores the serious voice in his head and instead shoots the exorcist a sly grin.

“Why hello again, girl. Fancy seeing you here. Care to explain what happened earlier?”

She says nothing for a while, instead capturing him with a sultry gaze as she clasps her hands behind her back innocently.

“Not really,” she sighs, as if bored by the question. “That’s not why I came here, Tyki Mikk.”

He sits up straighter, crossing one of his ankles over his knee. Propping himself up with his hands, he asks curiously, “Oh, really? Then why are you here, girl? I assume you are looking for another fight? If so, I must say, I never thought you were so foolish. How did you get passed my family?”

Once again, she ignores him, her eyes shifting to one of the walls longingly, almost as if she is waiting for something. The light from the candle catches her eyes, making the ring around her pupils glisten as though they were slivers of moonlight. There is a similar halo effect to her white hair, and Tyki gladly appreciates the sight, though he is still very much on edge. She had already tried to kill him twice now, after all.

Finally, she looks back at him, all at once sheepish and predatory, like a kitten trying to draw him in before sinking her claws into his throat.

“At first, I came here to fight you,” she says, sauntering a bit closer before cracking a small smile. “It was easy to get past the other Noahs, but I would never reveal how to the likes of you! Anyway…”

She moves even closer, and Tyki hesitates for a moment, made uncertain by her seemingly impenetrable confidence. She is standing right in front of him now, his face level with her chest. Although she is completely covered by her exorcist coat, the proximity is still distracting.

He looks up at her, about to ask why she is standing so close (not that he’s complaining), when she bites her lip.

Tyki’s eyes widen even more. He _knows_ that look. He has seen it many times before on the faces of multitudes of nameless noblewomen.

But he never thought he would see it on the face of one specific white-haired girl.

_Is Allen Walker trying to seduce me?_

“What are you doing, girl? I thought you said you wanted to kill me.” He doesn’t trust her, not by a long shot, but for some reason he finds this concern abandoning him at the moment.

“I was thinking about it,” she begins huskily, her arms reaching up and clasping behind her neck. “And then I realized something.”

“What?” he asks quietly, confused for a brief second. Her hands trail down her neck, ghostly fingertips dancing across her cloth-covered chest. Tyki wants to rip the blasted thing off this instant, but finds himself enraptured by her slow movements. “What did you realize, girl?”

She leans forward, bending down so that their faces are merely an inch apart, her silver eyes clouded and filled with what Tyki is shocked to realize is pure, unrestrained lust.

“I keep trying to hate you for what you did, but sometimes I find myself…conflicted.”

“How so?”

She sighs sadly, letting her released breath warm his face. The soft air gives him goosebumps all along his neck.

“Well, I think back to that night, and how…even though I didn’t plan on it…” She lowers her voice, turning it into a husky timbre. “I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt…to have you _inside of me_.”

The enunciation on the last three words is heart-stopping. She must be playing with him, trying to trick him somehow in order to lure him into a false sense of security.

But why? Despite having just been woken up, he obviously has the upper hand. Even if she is trying to distract him, he could still overpower her; his Noah doesn’t sense the presence of any other exorcists, so he knows she is alone.

However, he can feel the Noah pressing and pushing against the walls of his mind, aching to have Tyki’s restraint lifted so he can pounce on the woman in front of him. The seductive temptress, the one who is currently reaching her hands up to the collar of her coat.

With a quick tug, the coat pops open, revealing a chest clothed only by a thin tank top and undergarments. The girl is thin and small-breasted, but Tyki doesn’t really care; he has a taste for all shapes and sizes of beautiful women, regardless of what the societal tastes may be.

And Allen Walker’s body is most definitely beautiful.

His eyes are glued to her breasts, but a small intake of breath brings his gaze back up, only to be caught in her silver snare. She seems hesitant, nervous—Tyki knows she has never seduced anyone before, and this knowledge of her remaining virtue turns him on greatly.

“I’m…” she begins, “I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it, but…Tyki, can I...be with you for tonight? One night. That’s all I’m asking. And then things can go back to normal.”

He wants to exclaim “Yes” right away, but holds his tongue, whispering instead, “Really, girl? Just a night, without attempting to kill me?”

“Yes,” she gasps against his lips. “Please?”

He says nothing, merely dissecting the look of desperation, of genuine pleading in her eyes. Is this what he wants? To take her while he has her begging him for his touch? It _does_ make his ego soar, and he has, after all, been missing the touch and feel of her pale skin on his for quite some time…

Apparently he is taking too long to answer, because the exorcist speaks again, her voice a mere ghost of her usual tone.

“Do you not want to touch me?” she asks, then smiles cheekily, a light blush on her nose. “That’s fine. I’ll do it for you.”

Her hands slide the dark coat off of her shoulders, allowing it to fall in a puddle of cloth on the ground.

Tyki’s eyes widen at her remaining clothing. She is wearing a white tank top, as he had already seen—but her lower half is covered only by a small pair of dark lingerie. Her long coat had hidden her bare legs well, but now the pale, lightly freckled skin is shining profoundly in the candlelight, teasing him with possibilities of its softness, its smooth texture against his face, his mouth, his tongue…

The bewitched man reaches up to touch her, to feel her bare skin while she is giving him the opportunity, but she stops him, placing her small hands on his.

“Not yet,” she says, “Let me show you first.”

She sets herself down—pushing him farther down on the bed so he is leaning on his elbows—and straddles him, placing her knees on either side of his frame.

Slowly, torturously, she begins to peel off her shirt, gradually baring more of her pearly translucent skin to him. His eyes stay glued to her torso, not letting a centimeter of it escape his notice. He never had the chance to do so the first time; she had kept her coat on throughout the entirety of his indiscretion, but now, here she was: willingly putting her body on display, just for him.

After far too long (in his opinion), the white shirt is discarded along with the coat, leaving her breasts covered only by a lacy black bra that matches the panties. It is the perfect contrast: her alabaster moonlit skin and hair against the black of the lingerie. It nearly makes his breath catch, but he saves that reaction for what she does next.

She slides her hands up along her sides seductively, taunting him with this visual until she reaches the outline of her bra. She fingers it, then surprises him with her boldness when she grasps both mounds firmly in her own hands. A jolt goes through his groin and spine at her eagerness, becoming more intense as she undoes the clasp at the front of the lacy garment. It falls open, and she shrugs it off of her shoulders, returning to her previous activity. Tyki gapes, open-mouthed and smug, at the sight of her bare breasts being fondled by her own hands.

For _him_.

She stares down at the Noah, cheeks flushed as she rolls her nipples between her fingers, fidgeting on his lap as his erection becomes obvious. Pangs and jolts of pleasure shoot up his groin, and he hisses in frustration. He reaches up with his head, seemingly of his body’s own accord, his mouth seeking the peak of one of her swollen mounds. She pushes him back again, releasing a sigh as she leans farther over him.

She gives him another nervous grin, and then, as she leans back up, slides one of her petite hands into her panties.

He is sure that he would have no possible explanation for any member of his family who happened to walk in at that moment. What could he say to defend himself when there is an enemy straddling him, one hand on her own breast while the other strokes her womanhood?

Nothing.

So he stares up at her in awed silence, watching as her eyes slide shut while she strokes herself. He directs his gaze downward, watching as her fingers work themselves over her folds, as one of them slips inside of her while the other rabidly circles over her sweet spot. He almost groans aloud when her hips start undulating, rubbing against his clothed manhood. And when she lets out a small mewl of pleasure, he unconsciously gasps at the sound.

“Oh…” she says aloud, then mewls loudly as she starts going faster. He thinks now that there is nothing more beautiful than the sight he is seeing at this moment: Allen Walker, nude and flushed, playing with herself as she sits in his lap. Her eyes are shut tight with pleasure, her mouth is open in a wide O and her head is thrown backwards in the throes of bliss.

He knows now that he wants to be inside of her, to be closer to her than he is right now, but finds himself mesmerized by her movements, her twitches and gasps. Her fingers sink in and out of herself, rubbing and pinching as her hips roll against them. And suddenly her body stiffens, going taut as a bowstring yet still quaking perceptibly as she rides out her orgasm. She releases a heavy gasp and a whine, her mouth staying open as she tries in vain to catch her breath. Tyki feels her muscles unclench as she relaxes, now leaning all of her weight onto him.

He seizes the opportunity, reaching downwards to unbutton his pants. He pushes the offending material off of his hips, not bothering to take them all the way off. He merely shoves the dress pants down to his thighs before pulling on the girl, causing her to sit back down.

He sinks into her with a _squish_ , and groans quietly while the woman above him gasps in surprise and what he can see is pleasure.

“ _Tyki.”_ She says his name breathlessly, almost like she’s asking a question that she desperately wants him to answer.

The Noah hisses, savoring the feeling of how tight she is around him, how this angle allows him to reach even deeper into her that if he were on top.

“ _Move,”_ he commands in a low voice, placing his gray hands on her waist while he strokes his thumbs in circles around her hipbones lightly enough to make her shudder.

She does what he tells her to—quite well, actually, considering she has never done this before. She rides him hard, rotating and thrusting her hips against him in desperation. He lifts his own hips up to meet hers, giving him deeper access to her core. She is gasping his name every other thrust, and her hands lock behind his neck, trying in vain to keep herself steady.

Allen Walker is barely holding herself up, rising and falling as if she is fighting a battle with gravity. She loses the battle, lowering her body so that they are chest-to-chest and face-to-face while they thrust. She rubs herself against him, and he shudders in pleasure at the sensation of her nipples, pert and hard with need, scraping against his chest. He makes lazy circles on her naked back as he lowers his head, searching for the breast that she had refused him earlier. And he finds it, tarnishing its pale softness with his mouth as he sucks on it like a man dying of thirst. She releases a surprised moan, and Tyki remembers with a smirk how sensitive she had been the first time.

She continues to ride him until they are both gasping for air, unable to form a single coherent thought or phrase other than each other’s names or simply breathless gasps. All he knows and feels is the mind-blowing climax that is building up in his blood, the rush of endorphins causing him to feel lightheaded.

He is thankful when she reaches completion for the second time that night—before he does—because now he has the privilege of watching, undistracted, as again her face contorts. Her eyes shut, squeezing tightly as her nose screws up in ecstasy. Her toes curl against his calves, and her fingernails rake across his neck painfully. The combination of pain and pleasure, of having her walls clamp down around him, is enough to cause the man to see stars as he finally climaxes. Even after she lets out a final cry of his name, she continues to sink down on him repeatedly, slowing down until her body can take no more.

She stops moving, but stays on top of him, resting her head on his still-clothed chest. He knows she can hear his frantic heartbeat, and he focuses on controlling it as they both struggle for air. She raises her head up, locking gazes with the golden-eyed Noah. He thinks that she looks even more gorgeous like this, with her white hair a wild, sweaty mess and her cheeks flushed and pink. Her eyes are at half-mast, her mouth still open in wordless gasps.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, untangling her hands from around his neck.

He is surprised, to say the least. “Is that it?” he asks curiously. “No fighting?”

She shakes her head. “I…” She pauses, seeming uncertain as to whether or not she should continue with her train of thought.

“What is it, girl?” he teases, “Something on your mind?”

She bites her lip. “Tyki, I—”

But all too suddenly, she is cut off midsentence as the flustered and none-too-sweaty Noah wakes up in bed.

He looks around confusedly, at first wondering where the exorcist has gone off to before realizing that it had all been a dream.

A very vivid, erotic dream, no less.

He would be lying if he said he isn’t disappointed—sex would be a lovely way to reduce all of the stress he’s been under lately.

But that’s not all it is. He is specifically disappointed that Allen Walker is not in his bed, and that he didn’t get to hear what she had to say before he woke up. Now that, were it to happen, would actually be a dream come true—especially in light of his recent fantasy.

Of course, it is also highly unlikely that that will ever happen consensually, considering her homicidal hatred for him. He knows quite well that she hates his guts, and on a certain level he can understand why. He had performed what some people would consider “rape,” though in Tyki’s mind that word might as well be lost in a sea of fuzziness and gray area. She had enjoyed it, hadn’t she? Well, her body had, at any rate.

Tyki sighs as he sits up in bed, running a hand over his eyes. He removes his day clothes, all except for his pair of loose dress pants; although it is unsanitary, he is too tired to actually take them off. That is unusual for the Noah; except for when he is in his White Form, he prefers to be kept clean and prim.

He lies back down on his bed, letting his hands rest under his head as he thinks. He had seen Allen Walker again after a long time spent thinking she was dead. And, in spite of his common sense and a general disregard for sentimentality, he feels a twinge of something positive in his chest.

Excitement, a sense of purpose, a continuing conquest…Allen Walker is causing all of these things to resurface in Tyki’s mind, even if he knows he should not have them there.

So what is it that is making his heart beat with newly restored vigor? With a vitality that he has not experienced with any of his other female conquests? He can’t quite put his finger on it, but he thinks he has some semblance of an idea.

He remembers that night when he had claimed the pale girl as his own, replaying the events, her words, and his thoughts with a stunning clarity.

He reaches for a cigarette and the book of matches on his nightstand with anxious hands, feeling a tad more relaxed as soon as he takes a hit.

He recalls, with some trepidation, the insane pleasure he had felt when he took her against her will, her pleas merely egging him on as though he could change her mind by continuing. Strangely enough, however, he also finds his mind drawn to the moments before that, as though their prior conversation had been somehow more important. It is easier to recall, anyway, in that his mind had been less distracted by other things.

What had she said? Something about having hope, he is sure. Her optimism had been unwavering; although Tyki is no fan of the Black Order or the exorcists, he has to admit that her devotion is admirable—or stupid.

_The girl definitely has a lot of heart._

And he? Well, he knows that he has a lot of what some would call “personality.” He is often fawned over by many women for this proclaimed reason; he has been told repeatedly by his human friends and travelling gypsies that he’s “got soul”—whatever that means. If they can sense it, maybe the idea has some basis in fact.

Yet Allen Walker had also shown him a side of herself that is not so faithful and glass-half-full as he had initially thought. The emotion in her silver eyes that night, in the moment that she had looked at him with no fear and all killing intent…that emotion has stayed with the Noah of Pleasure.

And it is so very familiar.

He thinks back to something the Earl had said once before.

_She will do anything to stop us—because she’s a demon, too._

That statement makes him shiver as he stares blankly up at the ceiling, allowing the smoke to obscure his vision. Tyki knows that the Earl had meant it figuratively—Allen Walker is not a Noah, nor an Akuma—but it gives him chills nonetheless.

If Allen Walker is not entirely pure and innocent, kind and determined, then what else is she? There must be a side to her that Tyki has yet to see. He wants to, though—and he knows he will.

_Don’t worry, girl. Our paths will cross again in the near future. I still want to know more about you. And I did want to have a second round of cards, now, didn’t I?_

But for the time being, he lies on his bed, closing his eyes in a futile attempt at a dreamless sleep.

The last thing he sees behind his closed eyelids is an image of a white-haired exorcist standing proud as she brandishes her newly-weaponized arm.

 _Hmph_ , Tyki muses, _her hair has gotten longer._

 


	4. A Chorus of Voices

She finds herself on a road. It is not broad, nor straight, but narrow and winding, and it goes on and on until it fades distantly into the darkness. It is enclosed on both sides by unkempt grass that is growing onto the dirt. It is a road unpaved and wild, a road that leads to a place the white-haired girl staring after it cannot imagine—nor does she want to.

But there is nothing to do but follow blindly.

Allen has never regretted her vow to Mana to never stop walking. However, at the moment she finds herself wishing she could have vowed something a bit less daunting. She walks on anyway.

Foxtails and dandelions flutter in an unfelt breeze, wisps of their feather-light caresses brushing against her ankles. They reach onto the road to grab her, to pull her to them—but she doesn’t let them, because that would take her off the path she has chosen. As frightening as the road is, it is nothing compared to the overwhelming horror of darkness. Of nothing. Allen can’t stand the thought of nothing. The idea of something—anything—is much better than the endless monotony and repetition of not existing.

So her feet follow the path, step after step and minute after minute until finally, they reach the end. The previously narrow clearing widens out into a large, moonlit area. There are trees, short and bare and spindly, with limbs draped thoroughly in cobwebs and abandoned birds’ nests. Nothing lives here anymore, yet a crescent moon still shines above, illuminating the region with its apathetic glow.

 _It doesn’t want to be here_ , she thinks. _And neither do I._

With a jolt, Allen comes to her senses.

_What the…_

She blinks once, then twice, swiveling her head around in wonder. _Where am I?_

“Hello?” she calls into the vast emptiness. There looks to be a building before her—or what was once a building. Now, it is cut and dismantled into large chunks of material. A noble arch that was once a part of it is cut in two, towering ominously over Allen’s head like some kind of vague warning. “What is this place?” she says aloud to no one in particular. The images around her look strange, distorted and fuzzy as though seen through another’s eyes. “Where am I?”

She takes a tentative step forward, not wanting to be crushed by the unstable rubble. “Is there anyone in there?”

Splosh. Her foot splatters water as she accidentally steps into an unseen puddle.

“Oh, no.” Irritated and disgusted, she still follows the water with her eyes. It leads to a pond, a pond beneath the wreckage of the building. Allen looks up; the sky is clear and cloudless. There is not a chance of rain to be seen. Where did the water come from? She goes closer, allowing her boots to become wet with liquid as she does so. The water stays shallow, but she soon comes to a ledge.

There is a drop where the water suddenly becomes deep.

“I shouldn’t get my uniform wet.” She kneels down regardless, and the fabric on her knees instantly get soaked through. The pool of water before her looks wide and deep, but she doesn’t fall in. She reaches over the pond, straining her neck as she holds herself firm with her hands. She peeks down, down into the water. The surface is a clear silver, reflecting the moon and the starless sky and her face.

No, wait…Terror jolts through her. That’s not my face.

In the foreground of her reflection is a face, a silhouette that is not her own. It is a shadow’s silhouette, an inky black face with round eyes devoid of pupils. It also sports a wide, glaring smile.

It is not her. It is featureless, its expression taunting but still seeming happy to see her.

“What is this?” She almost panics, reaching one hand up to touch her face and run through her white locks. She feels her skin, her hair, her eyes and her nose. Nothing is out of place.

Is she dreaming? Did Tyki do something to her?

“Tyki!” she calls out desperately, looking around for a moment in panic. Her eyes burn with unshed tears, full of spite and some other emotion regarding the Noah. Fear, maybe?

Whatever Tyki did to her, she doesn’t feel like she’s dreaming.

She finally returns her attention to the pond. “Who are you?”

The shadow does not follow her movements—indeed, it seems as though the shadow is not prone to moving at all.

**“Who are _you?”_ **

Then, Allen’s heart begins to pound as the shadow begins to speak in a smooth voice, its tone making it sound as though it were mocking her earlier question.

 **“I think that would be a better question,”** the voice continues. **“Who are _you,_ Allen Walker?” **

She glares heatedly at the reflection, the anomaly—whatever it is. “I am an Exorcist.”

**“Ha-ha! Just the kind of answer I would expect from Mana’s brat. Such resolve. It’s admirable.”**

A cold flush spreads through her veins, and she sucks in a deep breath. “Mana? How do you know Mana?! Who are you?”

**“Ease up on that question, will you? I’m not the one who’s been lying to my friends. I should be the one questioning you.”**

She glares again, her silver eyes cold. “What are you talking about?”

**“Don’t try to play dumb with me, Niece. I know everything that you know. Your memories are mine to sift through as I choose. I just wasn’t able to break through and talk to you until now. In any case, I also know about your run-in with Joyd.”**

“Joyd?” she asks quizzically. “Who is that?”

**“Aw, damn. What do you call him again? That curly-haired Noah.”**

She freezes, her body going rigid. This…person, whoever she’s talking to…knows about what happened. “Tyki Mikk.” She says the name so coldly but with a thrill of fear, her jaw stiff and set.

**“That’s his body’s name. Right. I’ll remember that.”**

_He seems to be going off on a tangent_ , Allen thinks. “Just who the hell are you, already? And why did you call me ‘Niece?’”

The shadow chuckles softly, a maniacal grin pulling up the corners of his gaping mouth. **“Well, this isn’t exactly how I pictured a family reunion, but I suppose it’s now or never. Mana never told you he had a brother, did he?”**

“A brother?” She lets the new information sink in for a moment, denial and fear quickly taking its place. “So…so you’re my…”

 **“That’s right, kid. I’m your dear old Uncle Neah.”** The smile grows wider, the corners of the shadow’s lips reaching disturbingly to where its ears should rightfully be.

**“And I’m also a Noah.”**

Allen’s heart hammers away in her chest. She pulls away from the water’s edge in a blind panic, landing on her butt with a _thud_.

**“And that means you’re a Noah, too.”**

She scrambles backwards through the shallow water, but the voice is still there, ever persistent.

**“What are you trying to pull? You can’t get away like that. You know we’re not on Earth, right? You can’t run out of your own head.”**

“Go away, please,” she whispers breathlessly, pushing herself to her feet and dashing away from the satanic pond.

**“I can’t do that. I’ve passed on my legacy to you, Niece. Our lives are intertwined.”**

She squeezes her eyes shut as she runs, not watching or caring where she is going—she only knows that she is lost; she has veered off of the path.

Yet the voice of Neah still resonates inside her skull, drowning out the sounds of her own dull footsteps.

**“And we have something important to do, Niece. You have to awaken. That bastard isn’t getting away a second time. Do you hear me, Allen?”**

_“Allen, wake up!”_

The exorcist freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, the one seemingly coming from the sky.

“Lenalee?” she calls desperately, hoping beyond hope that the other girl can hear her.

Apparently, she cannot, because the green-haired girl continues talking as though Allen had said nothing at all. _“Nurse, what do I do? Allen-chan won’t stop thrashing!”_

_“Help me hold her down, Lenalee. We don’t want her to injure herself while she’s like this.”_

_I’m thrashing? Where am I right now? Nurse is there…I must be in the medical ward at Headquarters. I figured I was dreaming, but I can still hear what’s going on. Is my body trying to wake me up?_ She closes her eyes, trying to will herself back into consciousness.

“ _What’s wrong with the Moyashi?”_ a masculine voice drawls as it enters the conversation, and Allen breathes a sigh of relief. It’s Kanda.

 _At least he’s alright_ , she thinks. _Tyki didn’t hurt him—or anyone else, hopefully. I need to get back to them. I need to…_

_Wake up!_

* * *

 

And she does.

She is understandably disoriented, so it takes a few panicked moments for her to blink the blinding light out of her eyes. When she does, she is finally able to make out her surroundings.

Lenalee Lee and the Nurse are hovering concernedly over her, far too close for comfort. A few feet behind them stands one Kanda Yuu, for once looking more disturbed and bewildered than cross. He reverts back to his usual brooding gaze as soon as the Allen catches his eyes, however.

 _Figures_ , she thinks. The two women have finally backed off, and Allen sighs in relief. She made it out. She’s fine.

“Hey, guys,” she says, a tiny smile on her lips. Lenalee’s lower lip quivers, and she clutches Allen’s black hand as her eyes fill with tears. The white-haired girl is sure her friend’s grip is tight enough to break her hand were it made of human flesh.

“Allen-chan, we were so worried! We didn’t know what had happened. Kanda said you suddenly fainted while you were fighting one of the Noah.”

“I did?” She replays the series of events in her mind: the confrontation, the blinding headache—and then, she had been transported to that weird dream.

With Neah.

She suddenly feels sick, and a heavy weight seems to settle over her.

Out of nowhere, Kanda makes one of his characteristic dismissive noises. “Tch. You grabbed your head, then collapsed. Who knows what that Noah would have done if we hadn’t saved your ass.”

Allen feels sheepish, but still sends a small, grateful smile at the bad-tempered man. “I know. Thank you, Kanda. I know you won’t accept it…but, thank you for saving me.”

The samurai stares hard at her for a few seconds before making a noncommittal noise and walking out. Just as the blue-haired man walks through the door, another person breezes through: A red-haired menace who barrels into the room with little regard for either basic decency or balance.

“Allen!” Lavi gasps as he careens to a stop beside Lenalee, placing his hands on his knees as he desperately attempts to catch his breath. “Sorry I couldn’t be here earlier. Bookman and I—”

“It’s okay, Lavi,” Allen interrupts him as she props herself up on her elbows. “I just woke up anyway.”

“Aw, really? Damn. I wish I could’ve drawn a mustache on you again—”

“Lavi!” Lenalee chastises him, and he grins deviously, the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

“What? Sorry, Lena—I forgot you didn’t have a sense of humor—”

“That is _not_ the point, Lavi!”

Allen smiles to herself as she listens to the two of them bicker in unison, a sight she has sorely missed for the past few months. It’s almost enough to make her sad—if the confusion and stark fear of her most recent nightmare had not won out against all other feelings. Even the elation and joy of seeing all her friends in one piece is short-lived.

Because of Neah.

Lavi interrupts her thoughts of the strange voice in her head—the so-called Noah—who had also claimed to be her uncle.

“So, Allen, do ya really feel okay? I mean, you were pretty beat up when Lenalee and I saw you in that recording that Timcanpy showed us.”

Her blood freezes in that instant. The recording…the recording that Tim took of her and Tyki’s confrontation. She had nearly forgotten about that detail, not even considering the fact that he might have shown it to the others. Had it shown what Tyki had done to her? She couldn’t handle it if that were the case…She feels sick at the mere thought.

“Yo, Allen, are you alright? You’re looking a little green,” Lavi observes.

The Nurse had wandered off to tend to her other duties, so Lenalee takes it upon herself to place the back of her hand on Allen’s forehead. “Allen-chan? Do you feel sick? Is something wrong?”

The aforementioned girl exhales, letting out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “I’m fine. I just…I just don’t like remembering that night, is all.”

“I can imagine,” Lenalee concurs. “Having your weapon destroyed…it must have been terrible for you. But you’re okay now, Allen-chan.”

Both Lavi and the cute girl smile so sincerely that Allen cannot doubt that they have no idea what had actually transpired before the attempted destruction of her Innocence. Had Tim somehow edited the recording? Or did he just skip over the parts where she was being raped?

She doesn’t want to think about this at the moment. Right now, she needs fresh air. Yes, fresh air sounds good to her. That, and an entire buffet of Jerry’s amazing cooking.

“Hey, guys? I think I’m going to go for a walk…clear my head and everything.”

Lenalee nods, assisting the girl in standing up. When she gets to her feet, Allen instantly feels much better; it doesn’t suit her to be lying down for too long—not while there is a war going on. She has to get her strength back.

And she also needs to find out more about herself, apparently.

“I’ll meet you guys in the cafeteria in a few minutes, okay?”

“Sure thing, Allen.”

Lavi flashes her a peace sign while Lenalee waves, and the pair wanders off together down the hallway, bickering with each other all the while. The other female exorcist sets off in the opposite direction, only stopping to refasten the exorcist coat that had been folded neatly by the foot of the bed. She has on underneath only a white undershirt and a pair of black leggings, but it’s enough for now.

As she saunters down the empty, vast stone corridor, her thoughts once again begin to drift back to that night with Tyki Mikk. It seems as though things had taken a turn and begun to snowball out of control starting at that point. After her encounter with the Noah, she had felt a continuing nagging feeling in the back of her mind—a presence, one could call it. She had thought it was her Innocence, trying in vain to will her to get back into the fight; she had been sure of it when Crown Clown had appeared back at the Asian Branch.

But then, during her most recent fight with the Noah of Pleasure, the presence had come to a head, climaxing in a pain so severe that she had completely blacked out.

What had Tyki done to her? This whole mess had started when he showed up in her life…maybe he cast a spell on her, or something? He could be hiding another power that she had no idea about…

She quickly dismisses that idea as being even more ridiculous than the thought of Komui giving up his obsession with robots. It would make no sense for the Noah to cast a spell on himself as well—and there had obviously been something wrong with him during their fight.

Which leads her back to Neah. Mana’s so-called brother. He had appeared to know who Tyki is, even if he had called him by a different name.

 _“That bastard isn’t getting away a second time.”_ That’s what he had said.

A second time…so he knew the Noah of Pleasure when he was in his old body. That makes sense. So what had happened to make Neah hate him so much? To lead the man to betray his own brethren? They’re both Noah, after all! Don’t they share a common goal for the rebuilding of humanity?

_Well, Tyki did rape me, but this grudge has obviously been around long before that._

**“You’re damn right! You weren’t targeted by accident, Niece.”**

Allen gasps, almost tripping over her own feet at the sound of Neah’s voice inside her head. “W-what? How are you…?”

**“I have to say, this is much better than being constantly restrained inside your mind. Though I’d still prefer if I could wiggle a finger or two.”**

In lieu of speaking aloud, Allen tries to think furiously back at him in response. _How are you talking to me right now? I’m awake!_

**“Just because you’re awake doesn’t mean I’m not here. I have all of your memories, remember? I experience things as you experience them.”**

_Just go away, for God’s sake! I don’t want anything to do with you!_

**“And why not? What did I ever do to you?”**

_Because you said that you’re a Noah, and I’m an Exorcist. What other possible reason do I need? Besides, I’m still not entirely convinced that you’re even real. I could just be hearing things._

**“Very true. I suppose you could just be crazy. That would be a shame…there’s one way to find out, though, if you’re interested…”**

….. _How?_

**“The accommodator of the cube. Her name’s Hevlaska, right? I saw her in your memories. I bet she can tell you if you’re a Noah or not. She has some sort of psychic powers, from what I’ve seen of her prophecy about you. Destroyer of Time, huh? Pretty dramatic.”**

Allen considers Neah’s proposition; she begrudgingly admits that he may have a point. If she wants to know whether or not she’s crazy, to validate Neah’s existence (or non-existence, as she’s hoping for), then going to Hevlaska would be her best bet—provided the entity knew how to keep a secret. It’s a risk, but it’s also a risk she has to take. If there’s any way to get rid of a Noah, Hevlaska, with her advanced age and experience, is the person who would know about it.

**“I heard that, Niece. I won’t say I’m not offended, but considering that removing a Noah is impossible, I suppose I’ll just let you have your way for now.”**

_Gee, thanks_. With a roll of her silver eyes, Allen sets off towards Hevlaska’s chamber.

* * *

 

The drops of water pelt him like warm rain, running in soothing rivulets down his bare skin.

The water soaks into his hair, his muscles, and even down to his very bones. His body slowly unclenches, his stiff, taut muscles loosening and relaxing gradually with the aid of the shower’s spray.

He is looking down, away from the smothering air and the images and colors and shapes around him. He ignores the boring white tile in front of him in favor of staring at the water swirling around his feet. His body is hunched over, one hand against the wall as he faces the direction of the showerhead. And even though the air around him is warm, almost oppressively so, the heat causing steam to rise and diffuse thoughout the bathroom, he still feels too cold.

Tyki Mikk, for perhaps the first time in his odd life, is wrestling with something. Something that had once been relatively easy to push aside in some of his more human moments.

But now, the Noah inside him is writhing like a snake, even more active than he had been as of late. As a result, Tyki is very much on edge. He couldn’t even revert back to his White Form if he tried—and he already had, several times.

It hadn’t worked.

“What do you want from me?” he whispers aloud, his eyes sliding closed. “What are you trying to do?”

He feels more than observes the Noah’s anger. He is not a bystander, but a participant with little choice. The feelings which had once been so foreign have almost become one with his own.

He clenches his fists.

There is a hissing, spitting noise in his head—the Noah of Pleasure, he thinks, though the entity has not said anything aloud yet. The Portuguese man can’t help thinking with a bit of irony that this is the single least pleasurable thing he has ever experienced, aside from actually awakening as a Noah.

His Noah had been acting up with abnormal rigor ever since he had awoken from his most recent dream about Allen Walker. He had almost lost control at first (and had, in fact, ended up throwing Jasdero into a wall) before managing to consciously restrain his Noah as he had always done. It hadn’t been easy, though—he’s angrier than Tyki has ever seen, but there’s also something else underneath it. Call it desperation, longing…a need for something, maybe? The distinction is fuzzy, and Tyki cannot determine where his emotions end and the Noah’s begin. He isn’t sure he wants to know, but one image keeps popping up in his mind despite the turmoil it causes.

Allen Walker, naked and straddling his lap as she touches herself.

He cannot, try as he might, banish that woman’s profile from his mind. It just resurfaces every time he tries, springing back to the surface as though it were attached to a paddleball string.

Quite suddenly, an abnormally vicious thrust pounds against his skull, and Tyki collapses, bruising his bare knees on the unyielding bathtub. He fervently hopes that none of his family can feel what he is right now—who knows what they would think? They must know something’s wrong, though…

He merely grits his teeth against the onslaught, drawing a bead of crimson blood from his bottom lip in pain and frustration.

“Dammit,” he hisses, cursing in his turmoil. “Why won’t you go away like before?”

Finally, the being who shares his body responds, though the words are choppy and contorted with rage and desperation.

 **“Never,”** the Noah of Pleasure asserts. **“I’ll never let him get away this time. I’ll make him pay—I’ll make him suffer for what he’s done, for my pleasure…there would be no greater ecstasy than seeing that traitor die.”**

What are you talking about, Tyki thinks, surprised by the emotional intensity of the Noah’s words. He isn’t Skin—anger is not his forte!

Why is the Noah so angry?

**“I know what we have to do. We have to go to her. Give me your body, Mikk!”**

Tyki swallows dryly, his throat parched at the though of being totally consumed by the Noah.

 _I don’t want to. I can’t._ He can’t let go of himself; from the very beginning, he has restrained the Noah in favor of retaining his own identity, his own humanity. It’s what makes his life interesting. He’d be damned if he were going to give any of that up.

But is he capable of resisting the Noah inside of him for much longer? Even now he feels as though his mind is a delicate ball of yarn, slowly unraveling as he pulls the string himself…

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish the Noah’s thoughts from his own.

**“Go. Go find her. She’s harboring the traitor.”**

White hair flows over pale collarbones and shoulders, hands and feet fluttering delicately over gray skin, seeking out more contact, more pleasure…

**“Yes. That’s right. You can do that. Let’s go see her again. It’s what we want, isn’t it?”**

Then, white turns to scarlet, iron and salt. Red tracks form spidery patterns on a smooth white canvas. Death and destruction is just as orgasmic as connection, and heaven must be a cross of the two. Sadism is love, pulling apart is coming together…

Clarity returns for a brief moment, and Tyki gasps as he is thrust into the waiting reprieve. The water has turned cold, and goosebumps are now growing on Tyki’s skin.

He hurriedly shuts off the water, not even caring about the fact that he had forgotten to actually bathe.

 _What a waste of water_ , he thinks dejectedly, grimacing though the thoughts of the thrashing entity in the forefront of his mind. As he dries himself off, he inadvertently looks into the large vanity mirror. As usual, his reflection is the same: the same tall, imposing stature of the Noah stands behind him, this time not with a passively smiling mien, but with a sadistic, needy glare.

And suddenly, Tyki freezes.

Something is wrong.

He gasps loudly, his hands gripping the marble counter to avoid collapsing. He is surprised the solid rock does not break under the pressure of his grip.

**“You want to see her, don’t you? You made her yours, after all. This way, we both win.”**

**“Stop being so childish. You are my vessel, nothing more. You will do what I say. We must go find Allen Walker.”**

_No. Not like this._

There is a wave building up, its peak rising into a huge crescendo, crashing down to the beach with a force of unimaginable pressure.

Then, everything is gone. Silence meets Tyki’s ears, no more voices or pain or conflicting emotions.

He now only has one thing on his mind.

Allen Walker.

Just the thought of her makes a fire ignite in his blood; the need to get to her is so strong that his nails dig into the heels of his palm. Whether it is due to bloodlust or an insatiable sexual desire is dubious at best. It’s probably a mixture of both.

Though at this moment, he doesn’t really care.

He just knows that he has to get to her.

He has to find her.

He has to.

* * *

 

“Hevlaska?”

Allen wanders around the surface of the hovering platform, waiting patiently in the guardian’s chamber for her to show herself. Although the white-haired exorcist is almost infinitely patient, the person inside her head most certainly isn’t.

**“When’s this accommodator going to show up? Are you sure she isn’t sleeping or something?”**

_Hevlaska’s the guardian. She will know if someone comes to see her. She’ll show up soon enough._

**“She’d better. Although, if you would just take my word for it this wouldn’t be necessary.”**

Once again Allen chooses to ignore him, crossing her arms over her chest indignantly. There’s no way she’s going to attempt to converse with a (hopefully) fake voice in her head—even if he claims to be a Noah, a fact which she finds doubtful. She’s probably just being paranoid; she has been through a lot lately concerning Noahs. It stands to reason that she would be having some irrational thoughts about them.

**“This again? You really are as stubborn as an ox. You aren’t even acknowledging what’s right in front of you. Though, I guess Mana was the same way. You really are quite similar to my brother. I can see why he raised you the way he did—”**

_“Shut up!”_ The response is so quick, so instinctual that Allen doesn’t even realize that she had exclaimed it until after the fact.

“Allen Walker, are you talking to someone?”

The soothing, velvety voice of the guardian of Headquarters reaches the young woman’s ears, and she scolds herself internally.

 **“Feisty,”** Neah thinks snarkily at her, **“It looks like you got caught, though.”**

Allen turns around to greet Hevlaska warmly, and sees the large deity floating serenely in the large open space. Her body casts a soft purple glow on the entire room, while her limbs move slowly in a graceful dance around her inhuman form.

“Yeah. I mean, no. I was just rehearsing a conversation in my head. Practicing, you know.”

“I see.” Hevlaska lowers her head so that she is closer to Allen’s level, though the woman still cannot tell if she is looking at her or not. “It is nice to see you again. Have you come here to greet me upon your return? Would you like for me to examine your Innocence?”

“Uh, no thanks. That’s okay. The scientists at the Asian Branch already did that.”

“Hmm.”

It’s times like these when Allen curses the fact that Hevlaska doesn’t generally show emotions on her face. The exorcist swallows, then casts a small smile at the guardian. “I was wondering if you could…examine me.”

“Examine you? In what sense? Did you not just say that your Innocence had already been examined?”

“It has!” she exclaims a bit too eagerly.

 **“Relax, Niece,”** Neah reassures her. **“You’re not on trial here.”**

Allen lowers her voice after taking a deep breath. “It has,” she repeats, “but…I’ve been feeling strange ever since I originally had my Innocence destroyed. I was wondering if something’s wrong with me. Do you…do you think you’d be able to find out?” There, that isn’t entirely a lie. It’s just omitting part of the truth.

Hevlaska must buy it, because she thinks for a brief moment before nodding her assent. “If there is something in err with you or your Innocence, I should be able to gauge it through touch. May I?”

Her tendrils extend slightly, wiggling with the intent of probing something.

“Of course,” Allen concedes, swallowing in an attempt to moisten her parched throat. Hevlaska’s limbs wrap around the exorcist’s arms and midsection, hoisting her up so that she hovers on the deity’s level.

 **“I’m surprised you didn’t become afraid of heights after going through this the first time,”** Neah comments dryly.

Ever so slowly, Hevlaska touches her large forehead to Allen’s petite one, and a glow resonates from the point where their skin meets. It is just like the first time she had met the large entity when she had arrived here—only now, there is another bystander present.

A warm, buzzing sensation fills the exorcist, along with the foreign feeling of being pried open and probed by the hands of another. It’s different that Neah’s presence; it is benign, whereas Neah is not conclusively evil, just…disturbing, and difficult to pin down.

Allen feels as though Hevlaska is glimpsing her from the inside out; even Neah seems to be uncomfortable. She can feel him writhing inside her like an insect—but perhaps that’s just a side effect of Hevlaska’s process.

At first, everything seems to be going normally, and Allen continues to wait patiently for the end—but then, Hevlaska releases a sharp gasp that the young woman identifies as shock. Her limbs tighten and convulse before suddenly releasing the female exorcist, dropping her altogether. She barely has time to let out a terrified squeak before she plummets back to the platform, landing on her behind.

“Oomph,” she grunts as she lands, splaying out on her back. She is in shock, and her hindquarters definitely feel as if they are going to bruise. She takes a moment to regain her bearings before sitting up feebly on her elbows.

With one look at Hevlaska’s state, she gasps. The entity is crouched over, moaning, her body hunched low over the platform. She seems otherwise unharmed, but the fact that she is unresponsive is what is really bothering Allen.

What had hurt the usually unflappable guardian?

“Hevlaska?” Allen asks worriedly. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I am not injured,” she reassures her, “though I did feel a sting when I tried to breach one of the corners of your mind. It felt as though I were being forced out.”

Allen sits up straight, her eyes wide with curiosity—and fear. “What does that mean? I don’t think I was trying to force you out…”

“I do not believe that you did, nor that it was your intention to do so.” Hevlaska pauses, angling her face towards the young woman and leaning in closer. If Allen had to guess, she would say that Hevlaska is scrutinizing her—although it is hard to tell with the guardian’s appearance being what it is.

She continues with her explanation. “It did not feel as though you were attempting to force me out. I detected no hint of malice or ill intent from you. However…”

And here her voice takes on a more ominous tone, lowering a few octaves in its seriousness. “Something did intend to force me out.”

The exorcist doesn’t want to speak or even acknowledge those words, but she does anyway: her voice comes out as a tired whisper. “What?”

**“Guess who?”**

“Allen Walker,” Hevlaska’s voice booms authoritatively. “There is something inside you. Something not of this world. It is latched onto you, and it is at odds with the Innocence that lingers in you.”

“At odds?”

“Yes.” Hevlaska draws herself up, looming over Allen even more so than before. “You are not alone with me, Allen Walker.”

“What?” she asks again, breathless and in denial. “Of course I am! It’s just us in here.”

“Our bodies may be, but there is another presence within you. It is sentient, and it is trying to take over. Could it be that it is….?”

**“Well, I can’t take over without your permission, apparently. You really are a stubborn one, Niece.”**

_No. No. This can’t be. It can’t. I can’t be…_

_I can’t be turning into a Noah._

**“It can, you are, and you will. This isn’t down to you, Allen. It’s the way it has to be. This is your fate.”**

_Weeeeeeooooo! Weeeeeeooooo!_

The lights on the wall flash as the blaring alarm goes off throughout Headquarters. The noise itself is more than enough to shock Allen out of her bubble of denial.

“What the hell?” she wonders, looking around pointlessly for what had initially caused the alarm to go off. “An intruder?”

A woman’s voice crackles on over the universal intercom, her monotone voice commanding order.

_“Attention. Headquarters is being invaded by the Noah Clan. I repeat, Headquarters is being invaded by the Noah Clan. The cafeteria has been breached by a large anomaly. All scientists and personnel not on active duty are to report to the emergency evacuation doors located on all levels. Any currently active exorcists who are not at the site are to report there immediately.”_

Allen doesn’t wait for the woman to finish her warning before taking action. She immediately descends the platform without waiting for Hevlaska to finish her sentence, dashing towards the cafeteria as though her life depends on it—which, funnily enough, it does.

 _Lenalee and Lavi are in the cafeteria!_ She pumps her legs harder, willing her recently-recovered body faster. _I have to get there faster. I won’t be left out of the fight again._

**“That’s the spirit, Niece! You’re a spitfire. But you’d better be prepared for what lies ahead.”**

_Of course I am_ , she responds angrily.

“I am an Exorcist.”

She tears down the hallway, heading straight into the fray with no idea of what—or who—awaits her.


	5. A Mode of Attack

Kanda Yuu hates people.

Well, not entirely. There is a select group of them that he tolerates. Lenalee is one of them; Lavi had been attached to her at the hip since they had started secretly dating—the damn rabbit—so Kanda reluctantly includes him as well. Bookman is his favorite, due to the old man’s amusing habit of knocking the redhead senseless. Komui is…good God, don’t even get him started on _that_ buffoon.

Yet the irate samurai would gladly give up all of his soba noodles if he had help getting rid of one person in particular: the Moyashi. She infuriates him to no end; it’s almost as though she exists expressly for his own torment. He wishes that, rather than continuing to distract him with her annoying optimism and nearly insatiable appetite, she would go on a mission or something. Away from Headquarters, preferably for an extended time period.

 _Tch. She’s so annoying._ So it’s a mystery to the swordsman why he is sitting in the cafeteria thinking about the white-headed fool when he could be taking a mouthful of soba. _She’d better not come down here while I’m eating_. Truthfully, she would most likely go sit with Lavi and Lenalee anyway—and they were both sitting a few tables in front of him, having moved after their first attempt to have lunch with him. Kanda had promptly called Lavi a particularly unsavory word. The female exorcist (who apparently also doubled as his bodyguard) had chastised the samurai before dragging Lavi off to a more “civil” environment, as she called it.

So why is he worrying about the Moyashi? It’s not as though she would want to sit with him, anyway. The two of them always scrap when left to their own devices.

He tells himself that it’s because he is curious, not concerned. When she had collapsed right in front of him, he rationalizes that he had caught her because it’s his duty as an exorcist to watch out for comrades (however annoying they may be).

He tells himself that when he had found himself waiting in her room in the medical wing, it was because he was keeping watch over the patients in the Nurse’s brief absence, before Lenalee had arrived. He would have done it for anyone else—except maybe Lavi.

He tells himself that it wasn’t the elated expression on the curly-haired Noah’s face when he had spoken of the young woman that had fueled his anger—it had been the gray-skinned man’s audacity.

So he tells himself.

In any case, Kanda certainly isn’t looking forward to seeing the Moyashi again any time soon. Not at all. He sometimes thinks that his life would even be a little simpler without her in it. If she were to just go away on some long assignment without him… Just to give him some time to clear his head and mentally prepare himself for her ever-infuriating presence.

But now she’s back—not that he’d even known she’d been gone, let alone had her Innocence both destroyed and recreated. He had been too busy with Tiedoll and Marie.

She’s back, and she’s safe.

Not that he’s thankful for that. He couldn’t care less—could he?

He glares down at the half-eaten bowl of wheat noodles, willing his mind to stop fucking around with him while he’s trying to eat.

Unfortunately for the angry man, just at that moment, a blinding light fills the cafeteria, throwing everyone in it into a state of confusion. Kanda himself snaps his eyes shut in shock, and the sound of something tearing reaches his ears.

He opens his eyes, and his keen vision makes out a large, shining anomaly that appears to have torn a hole in space itself. A geometric structure is sitting innocently in the middle of the room, giving off a warm glow of bright pink light. Nothing appears to be coming out of it aside from the light itself. It just floats there, hovering in the air above one of the tables as confused finders and scientists let the food fall out of their mouths in surprise and awe. The closest ones get up and back away, eager to be a safe distance from the unknown object.

All is still in the cafeteria. Gradually, the initial uncertainty dies down as nothing happens, and the finders, scientists, and three exorcists hesitantly began to move closer; Kanda himself stays farther back while Lenalee and Lavi creep closer, the redhead keeping an arm out in front of the girl.

Lenalee speaks first. “What is it?” she says in wonder. “Lavi?” She turns to the future Bookman, probably hoping that he has picked up something useful regarding the strange situation in his studies.

Kanda himself also turns to stare at the redhead. He looks slightly ill; his expression is one of shock and distaste, and his eye is for once showing signs of seriousness.

One of the finders at a nearby table stands up and boldly walks over to the floating specter.

“No!” Lavi suddenly exclaims. “Don’t go near it! Gramps and I were just recording the research done on the recent happenings of the Asian Branch!”

Kanda’s narrowed eyes widen in surprise. So that means—

“ _That’s Noah’s Ark!”_

Lavi’s warning to the finder is too little, too late. Just as the man reaches out to touch the anomaly, a hand shoots out of the light and grabs ahold of his wrist. He stares with wide, baffled eyes at the gray arm—right before another hand reaches into his chest. All is silent in the cafeteria for a split second as the unknown finder’s eyes widen in horror.

The hand pulls.

Instantly, blood splatters from the man’s mouth, and he gurgles sickeningly as his own hand reaches up to clutch at his chest.

His now-empty chest, Kanda can see—because one of the gray hands is holding a heart.

The organ is still pulsing, albeit faintly, dripping scarlet blood onto the tiled floor in a morbid scene. The finder collapses, his dead body limply falling to the floor with a heavy thud.

As soon as it does, the room springs into chaos.

* * *

 

 _Finally, I’m here_ , Tyki thinks smugly as he steps out of the portal. _That took long enough, but I suppose the Ark moves as fast as it can. Those humans at the Asian Branch must be losing their minds right now, what with the Ark disappearing on them!_

As the Noah exits the Ark, he steps into a very welcoming scene. Multitudes of humans are standing before him, as wide-eyed and terrified as the dead man had been right before Tyki had ripped out his heart. He drops the organ beside the man's corpse with a sickening _plop_.

_At least I wasn’t wearing gloves._

His golden eyes immediately pinpoint the three exorcists in the room: the obnoxious redhead, the cute girl, and the silent samurai from Edo are all here.

 _Perfect. They’ll know where Allen Walker is_. The thought sends his heart into a frenzy.

“It’s a pleasure to see you three again, Exorcists,” he says cordially, slicking his hair back habitually. He has dressed for the occasion: a prim white dress shirt coupled with pressed pants, sans gloves, hat, and bow. Not too formal, but not too casual—perfect for what he is about to do.

After all, he had never liked to get _too_ dirty.

He doesn’t expect a polite response—and he doesn’t receive one.

“You!” the redhead exclaims, his fingers reaching down to pull his anti-Akuma weapon out of its holster. “Grow! Grow! Grow!” he exclaims, and the small hammer instantly balloons to unsightly proportions.

“Lavi, wait!” the cute girl yells as her friend springs forward at the Noah.

Tyki smirks at his impulsivity and dodges to the side just as the huge hammer comes crashing down—

_Smash!_

The table Tyki had been standing on is destroyed. Rubble and linoleum shards from the floor fly through the Noah’s face, and he lunges at the redhead in glee. He summons his shards of pink light, and plunges it into the kid as he turns to face him. Shock registers instantly on the kid’s face, and he goes flying into the wall before he can utter a word. Tyki watches him fall to the ground just before barely managing to dodge a kick to his head.

He whips around, coming face-to-face with the samurai and the girl, who is the one who had just tried to cleave Tyki's head off with her foot. The samurai's katana is out, poised in front of him with his hands clasped as though he were praying. The girl’s legs are bare, her anti-Akuma weapon nowhere to be seen. It hadn’t been working before, in Edo, either. Is she seriously planning on fighting him with no weapon?

 “Get out of here, Lenalee,” the samurai says. “Don’t be stupid. You don’t have a weapon.”

 “No,” she objects stubbornly. “I’m fighting too, Kanda! I won’t give up. Allen-chan didn’t.”

 “The Moyashi is an idiot, and shouldn’t be fighting either. She just woke up. Are all the morons around here suicidal?”

 Tyki’s eyebrow raises, and he interrupts them.

 “Allen Walker,” he states authoritatively. “Where is she?”

 Kanda grips his sword tighter, and his slanted eyes narrow ominously. “You’re after the Moyashi? Why?”

Tyki shrugs. “She’s connected to General Cross Marian. The Millennium Earl ordered me to go after her. Now why don’t you tell me where she is?”

“No way!” the cute girl yells suddenly, and she runs towards him.

“Lenalee!” Kanda booms. He runs after her, drawing up his katana.

Tyki smiles again. The girl throws a punch, which he allows to phase through his cheek. What he doesn’t see is her leg as she instantly drops to one of her hands, driving her shin into his stomach before he can activate his power. The breath is knocked out of him as he flies backwards, and he barely manages to dodge the vigorous slashes of the swordsman’s katana.

He dives over and under, side to side until only glints of silver are flashing in front of his eyes. Time begins to move in slow motion as he once again goes hand-to-sword with the silent exorcist. He takes one swipe at the Noah’s head—just as the short-haired girl comes at him from the side.

He smirks. _The fools_. He sees an opening, and he takes it.

He dives under the sword just as the girl rears back on her foot to aim a kick at his head. Moving with vast speed and agility, he grabs her shin just before it makes contact with his cheekbone, watching as her face becomes contorted with frustration.

“Sorry, Miss,” he says politely, flashing his teeth at her. His clenched hand finds her throat, and he throws her. Over his head she sails, flying headlong into the eastern wall. She hits the stone barrier with a hollow thud, her head snapping back to crack against it. She crumples to the ground, her eyes already closed before she even collapses.

Tyki turns back to face his other opponent. It’s just him and the samurai now. Good. He grins; the Noah in his mind’s eye grins with him, excited at the prospect of being able to kill the exorcist slowly.

The other man isn’t grinning, however. Rather, he looks livid. Livid at _him_. It’s just too perfect. He can kill this man. Allen Walker’s friend or—dare he say it—lover.

**“His death will destroy her, and then we can kill her.”**

_She will be mine._

The situation is a win-win for both inhabitants of Tyki Mikk’s body.

So, with little thought or second consideration, he charges at the blue-haired man. “Tease!”

He summons the carnivorous butterflies, who instantly swarm from his palms to appear beside him.

 _Get the samurai._ They dive at Kanda, flying towards him from all sides. Tyki can sense that they are aching to sink their teeth into the Exorcist’s flesh. But the Noah doesn’t command them to swarm him like he had in their last fight. No, he had already gleaned from their last bout that the swordsman is not one to be taken lightly or trifled with; he is perfectly capable of fighting off his Tease at close range. Instead, as the two continue to battle, Tyki directs the winged monsters to flutter distractedly around his opponent. Occasionally, he orders one or two of them to flutter over and sink their teeth into the samurai’s skin.

The frequent nip of sharp teeth is essentially harmless, but effective; every time, the exorcist barely pauses in his attacks to slice the carnivorous things away before resuming the single-minded effort to remove Tyki’s head.

And every time, Tyki sees, he leaves just the slightest opening.

In response to Kanda’s vigorous attacks, he continues to dodge.

Everyone who can’t fight has long since fled the cafeteria in fear of being either devoured, torn apart, or sliced in half, save for the two unconscious exorcists who are lying on opposite sides of the room. So Tyki and Kanda have plenty of free space in which to duel each other without fear of interruption.

On the Noah’s end, that also means that the samurai has no back up.

Which means that this blow will be the last.

He once again builds up the energy needed to deal the finishing blow—the one Allen Walker had deflected last time. He sneers at the swordsman as he continues with his fruitless effort.

And then, as soon as he sees the smallest hint of an opening, he lunges.

The massive pink blades of light hit the man in the dead center of his chest, and his narrowed gaze widens by the smallest fraction. Time seems to move much slower as their eyes meet for the briefest moment, the samurai’s full of malice and pain to the same degree as Tyki’s are filled with a smug glee.

The exorcist goes flying.

He crashes into the southernmost wall, his back’s collision with it leaving cracks and an obvious indentation in the infrastructure.

Tyki scoffs derisively, and is by his side in an instant. One hand goes for the throat, the other for the wrist. The katana still clutched in the man’s hands clatters to the floor as soon as Tyki clenches his wrist. He slams his forearm to the wall, and does the same with his head.

The Noah’s gray fingers are clutched tightly around his throat, squeezing firmly enough to be uncomfortable but not to the point of inducing a loss of consciousness. Not that it would matter, anyway. The samurai isn’t anywhere near unconscious; his dark eyes are full of fire, and harbor an intense hatred for the person who had caught him in his steady grip.

Their eyes meet again, and the Noah feels the deep rumble of the samurai’s predatory growl in his hand. He clenches his teeth in malice, and Tyki smirks at his defiance. He tightens his grip, forcing the man to angle his face upward towards Tyki’s deadly gaze.

“Now then,” the Noah begins in a deceptively calm voice, “I believe we have time to resume our conversation. Where is Allen Walker?”

The blue-haired man’s gaze intensifies.

“Fuck you,” the samurai manages to spit out at him, the drops of his saliva phasing through the gray man’s face. A good thing, too. He wouldn’t be surprised if the man were spitting acid at this point.

Tyki sighs. “Not going to tell me, are you? I seem to remember from our last fight that you said you hated her. I’m more than willing to take her off your hands. Why don’t you tell me where I can find her?”

The swordsman’s body clenches, trying pointlessly to throw off Tyki’s grip. It doesn’t work.

The Noah’s smile widens. “Ah! I see. Now it makes sense. You don’t hate her at all.” He leans forward, gleefully looking into Kanda’s dark eyes. “You love her, don’t you?”

Kanda snarls another profanity, but Tyki’s verbal onslaught continues.

“You’re in love with Allen Walker.” His golden eyes darken briefly, then take on an even more evil connotation. “Well, that’s really too bad, isn’t it? If you had just told me where she was, I would have been able to take her peacefully and painlessly. But as it is now…”

He places his sinister lips next to Kanda’s ear, and the next words the Noah utters cause his whole body to stiffen.

“…I’m going to make her suffer. I’m going to pull her apart and make her scream and writhe just so I can watch her be destroyed. I bet she’ll call for you. And when she does…” His voice lowers to a mere whisper. “…I’ll take her. I’ll take her hard, until all she knows is my name, my voice, my body. I’ll make her wish she were dead, to ask for me to put her out of her misery. But I won’t.” _Because she’s mine. Not yours._

_Never yours._

**“Go find the girl. Find her so that we can go home.”**

Not only do his sinful words cause Tyki’s blood to pound, but they also affect the samurai. The man has been instilled with a level of wrath the Noah had only ever witnessed in Skin. He thrashes and fights against the gray man’s hold, but his grip remains firm; Kanda only ends up expending more energy.

Tyki decides to try one last time. “This is your last chance, Exorcist. Where is Allen Walker?”

Abruptly, Kanda settles down—but lodged in the recesses of his eyes there is a violent hatred so intense that it even sends shivers down the Noah’s spine.

“Go die, you goddamn curly-haired Noah bastard.”

Tyki chuckles, then sends a predatory glare his way. “Sorry, Mr. Kitchen Knife. That’s the wrong answer.”

In an instant, the Noah produces another glowing crystal of light in his palm, and thrusts it into Kanda’s chest.

* * *

 

It hasn’t been an easy couple of days for Allen. She had rejoined the fight, only to be once again confined to bed rest for the last day or so.

Which is why she feels thrilled to be sprinting through the halls of Headquarters, working on rebuilding her stamina as she races to the cafeteria.

_Please, please, please let me get there in time!_

**“Come on, Allen. You can do better than that.”**

She heeds Neah’s words, and pushes herself harder.

She sees the large doors coming up on her right, and bursts through them with the intent of charging headlong into battle—only to be caught off guard by the scene that awaits her.

The first things she sees are her friends’ bodies.

Lenalee and Lavi are unconscious—she’s praying that they’re not dead—and both of them are lying slumped against opposite sides of the room.

The cafeteria itself is in major disarray, with chunks of table and blood lying scattered about. A man dressed in the familiar uniform of a finder lies motionless in the middle of the large hall, a pool of blood slowly spreading around him.

And pinned against the other wall, the one closest to Allen, is Kanda—and the one pinning him is none other than Tyki Mikk.

As she comes upon the scene, she watches in dawning horror as Tyki thrusts a shard of light into the swordsman’s chest. Kanda gives a strangled yell, his long-haired head thrown back in a near-soundless cry. The samurai slumps against the wall, his chin on his chest.

Tyki reaches towards his torso with one hand, and Allen’s heart almost stops.

But she doesn’t freeze up this time.

_“Innocence, activate! Clown Belt!”_

Tendrils of white reach out and wrap themselves around Tyki’s limbs, stopping the Noah in his tracks. He stares at the strange white coat in confusion, but before he has a chance to wonder for long, Allen throws him as hard as she can. He flies backwards at lightning speed, crashing into the far wall. Dust and pieces of stone fly everywhere, leaving a gaping hole in it.

_Sorry, Komui._

Without a second thought, Allen darts over to Kanda, whose slumped form is now lying prone on his back. Hyperventilating, she kneels by his side and finds that his pulse is alive and strong, if a bit irregular.

He coughs suddenly, and Allen lifts his head, cradling it in her lap as she tries to pry his eyes open.

“Kanda! Kanda, are you okay? Did he hurt you badly?”

He opens his eyes of his own accord, his dark orbs staring up at her in confusion and anger.

She blinks. Is there a tad of relief in those depths, too? She had never thought she’d see the day when Kanda was relieved to see her.

“Kanda?” she asks quizzically, her eyebrows crinkled in worry. “What’s wrong? Are you injured?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he grunts, trying and failing to sit up. He stiffens suddenly, as if he had just remembered something significant. His eyes convey a sense of urgency, and he grabs ahold of Allen’s exorcist coat with a grip much stronger than she had expected for the injured man.

“Kanda?”

“He’s after you, Moyashi,” Kanda rasps out, his dark eyes burning holes into her face. Allen is so startled by his tone that she forgets to correct his derogatory nickname. “He’s come to take you. Don’t fight him.”

She gapes at the samurai, struck dumb by his ridiculous request. “What are you talking about, Bakanda? I’m not going to run away!” How could he think so little of her?

“Remember what happened last time, Moyashi? You passed out! If that happens again, you’re done. Get the others out of here. I’ll take care of him.”

“You can barely move, Bakanda! I won’t leave a friend behind. And it won’t happen again. I’m sure of it.” She isn’t; but she has no other choice but to face the enemy and hope fervently for the best.

She can still sense Tyki’s presence; he’s awake and kicking.

Just as she’s about to turn around and face him on the other side of the wall, Kanda coughs, and crimson blood sprays on Allen’s coat and face, alerting the young woman to the reality of his condition. She stoops back down to him, placing her clawed hand on his chest and the other on his cheek.

She gasps; almost his entire torso is soaked through with warm blood, and his breaths are becoming labored.

“Kanda,” she whispers in a panic-laden voice. “You—” Her voice cuts off, no longer capable of forming the necessary words of comfort. “I don’t know what to do. I need to get you out of here—”

“A-ah…” he chokes out.

“Don’t talk, Bakanda. You’ll only make it worse!”

His gray eyes are glazed over, but still open. They are staring up at her, this time not with disdain and indifference, but fear.

Fear? Kanda isn’t afraid of death. What is he afraid of?

**“Niece! Pay attention!”**

Neah’s voice plays in the background as she looks down at the samurai. As she watches his gaze, she notices his orbs darting to a spot above her head.

And at the very same time, she senses Tyki’s presence, and registers Neah’s warning.

But it’s too late.

Before the young woman even has time to turn around, she distantly feels a heavy blow on his left temple.

The last thing she sees is Kanda’s rigid face, and then, nothing.

* * *

 

He has never felt so useless.

Kanda prides himself on his endurance, his speed, his agility—and he has often belittled those who do not have those traits to his standards.

Yet here he is, ironically the weakest person in the room. His chest is throbbing with pain, his blood ebbing out of the wound like water out of a faucet. He tries to move, to reach up and fight the Noah towering over him, but he cannot.

Tyki Mikk stares down at him with a twinkle in his golden eye, his hands hidden in the pocket of his dress pants. Kanda’s eyes flick over to the Moyashi, whose limp body is lying at the Noah’s feet. She is unconscious, and splayed out on her back, with one of her small hands unclenched on the ground.

Morbidly, Kanda thinks that it looks almost as though she is reaching out for someone.

A spot of blood mars her temple, courtesy of the blunt force the Noah had hit her with—a piece of solid granite.

Kanda groans. Why hadn’t he killed her? Why knock her unconscious? Unless…

The Noah wants to take her with him. Had he been serious about doing those things to Allen earlier? He had thought he was trying to ruffle his feathers…

He clenches his teeth in fury. He had been too late to warn her, but he is still alive. They both are. He’ll fight to the death if he has to, in order to defeat the Noah.

He rolls himself over, flopping onto his stomach and bracing his palms on the cool floor. He tries to push himself up, his arms shaking as he does so.

“It looks like you’re going into shock, Mr. Kitchen Knife.”

As the Noah speaks, taunting him, Kanda watches his own blood drip from his chest and mouth, to run down his neck and chin.

“I am really going to enjoy killing you.”

Kanda looks into the face of his grinning enemy as the gray man begins to stalk closer.

But suddenly, he freezes in his steps, a quizzical countenance overtaking his face. His eyes hold a faraway look. “Hmph,” he says, an irritated edge to his voice. “It seems I’m being called back, courtesy of the Earl. Too bad.” He tilts his head sideways, glancing at the samurai with an almost sad expression. “I wanted to take my time killing you. Oh, well.”

He steps away, sauntering back to Allen’s body. He scoops her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style. Her head tilts back, exposing her pale throat and allowing her hair to flow freely. One of her arms dangles uselessly toward the ground, while the other curls up on her stomach.

Kanda has never seen her look so defenseless, so victimized, and it angers him. _Wake up, Moyashi!_

He coughs up more blood, and almost falls onto his face with the physical strain.

But the girl doesn’t awaken, even as Tyki turns away from the injured exorcist and heads back to the Ark still hovering in the middle of the cafeteria.

“Dammit,” Kanda coughs out, trying to drag himself up. He makes it about two feet before he collapses back down onto his hands and knees.

“M-Mugen,” he whispers, calling to his katana. It comes to him, the hilt resting warmly in his palm like an old friend. But the light it gives off soon goes out; Kanda’s vision is blurring, his weakened body no longer able to sustain his consciousness. He can only watch while the Noah bastard takes the Moyashi farther and farther away from him. “Get back here, you bastard.” His voice is now a croak.

The gray-skinned man either doesn’t hear him or has chosen not to dignify him with a response. Kanda figures it’s the latter.

The samurai strains and pushes, trying desperately to will his body to stand, to do something rather than watch the Moyashi be kidnapped right in front of him.

Alas, his efforts are all for naught.

The Noah steps into the Ark, the white-haired girl in tow.

“Goddammit,” Kanda says, his voice once again crackling as both his mind and his muscles fail him.

In an instant, they are gone.

 _“Allen!”_

* * *

 

For the first time in too long, he is touching Allen Walker.

As he travels through the Ark with the girl in his arms, Tyki is bombarded with a series of emotions. Anger, lust, satisfaction, and an urge for bloodshed all vie for his attention.

The Noah of Pleasure is being particularly vocal.

**“Why didn’t you kill her back there?! We would have had time to torture all of them if you hadn’t been dawdling.”**

Tyki can feel the Noah hammering away inside his head, and the throbbing pain begins. He doesn’t feel like responding to Joyd at the moment, funnily enough. Not too long ago he had been completely at the Noah’s mercy.

Even so, for some reason, he feels much stronger right now. He looks down at the softly sleeping face of Allen Walker, and he feels a sudden burst of fire in his blood. He pushes Joyd aside as he had done many times before, finally managing to silence the Noah’s commands. He would prefer to be alone with the girl right now—even if the Noah is technically still present, he is incapable of commenting for the time being. Joyd’s most recent bout of strength—his attempt to take over Tyki’s body—had been unhinging.

So Tyki has many things to think about, now that his head is finally clear.

For instance, he had not been blinded by pain when he had been near Allen this time. Had something changed since the night in Edo? The only thing he could think of is…

Ah, yes. That’s it. Joyd’s meddling. Now it makes sense. His blinding headache had been a result of Joyd’s attempts to break through the mental barrier Tyki had put up. And Allen’s had most likely also been a result of his desired contact with her.

Allen. Joyd had told him that she was “harboring the traitor,” whatever that meant. Who is the traitor? Is it a friend or acquaintance of the girl’s? And what had they betrayed? The Black Order? No, a traitor of the Order would have been shunned by the white-haired exorcist, friend or not, and they would be much more likely to be an ally of the Noah.

So who is it?

He discards his thoughts on the matter as he arrives at the familiar dining hall in the Ark. He pushes the door open with his shoulder, barely missing being pelted in the face by a wadded-up piece of paper as he enters. His eyes narrow at the culprit.

Devitto stares at him with wide, raccoon eyes, a second crumpled ball of paper in his hand that is ready to be thrown at a moment’s notice. Jasdero sits at the table behind him, his feet propped up on a chair as he scribbles on a fresh sheet.

“Yo, Tyki!” Devitto laughs with a mischievous lilt, “Welcome back, ne? Who’s the girl?”

Tyki ignores his question. “What are you idiots doing?” the Portuguese man drawls lazily, eyeing Devitto’s paper bombs and Jasdero’s “artwork.”

“Taking care of Cross’s bills, hee hee!” Jasdero chimes in whilst doodling a horrid rendering of a rooster with a hat.

“You’re supposed to _pay_ them, not destroy them,” a feminine voice corrects the twins.

Tyki twists his gaze to another door that had only just appeared on the other side of the room. Road’s door had materialized, with the spiky-haired girl standing in front of it, looking cross as usual with the twins’ antics.

She smiles at Tyki. “Hi, Tyki!”

“Hello, Road.”

She narrows her eyes as she sees the unconscious girl in his arms, raising one eyebrow. “Tyki, why are you carrying Allen Walker?”

Even the twins’ attention is captured by Road’s blunt question.

“Allen Walker?! Cross’s apprentice?!” Devitto exclaims, grabbing the large stack of untouched invoices on the table. “Some of these are addressed to her! Will you give them to her? Wait—she’s alive, right?”

Tyki sighs and rolls his eyes, not in the mood to be dealing with the two most idiotic members of his family—aside from Skin, of course. “If you must know, yes. Now why was I called back here? First thing’s first, after all.”

Road steps closer, her eyes cunning and curious. “The Millennium Earl told me to call everyone back so that we’re all here when he arrives. He wants to talk to us. Father, Wisely, and Skin are in their rooms.” She tilts her head back, a drawn look on her face. “I thought I was going to be _so_ bored waiting, but now you’re here!” Her face breaks out into a wide grin. “And you brought my favorite exorcist! Can I play with her?”

“No.” His answer is short and clipped.

“Please, Tyki? I promise I’ll let you have a turn—if you haven’t had one already, that is.”

“I said _no_ , Road.” He says it confidently, but a twinge of surprise goes through him at her insinuation. What is she getting at?

She rolls her doe eyes at him. “Fine. But what are you going to do with her? Why didn’t you just destroy her Innocence and kill her like the Earl told you to?”

Quickly, Tyki racks his brain for an excuse. He clears his throat. “Well, in light of our last meeting with the Earl, I decided it would be more fruitful for us to hold her hostage for information on the Order. The Earl did say that she bothered him, so we can kill her once we’ve extracted everything she knows.” Tyki is good at thinking on his feet, but he often says things that bring immediate gratification, as he is doing now. He knows he’ll have to kill Allen Walker—but he will put it off for as long as possible.

He wants to spend some time with her, after all.

Road smiles cheekily at him. “That’s pretty smart of you, Tyki. Where are you planning on keeping her?”

He ponders it for a moment before presenting his answer to the girl—who he sincerely hopes is in a giving mood. “Why not here? There’s no other place. The Order no longer has access to the Ark. They won’t be able to find her. Good work on retrieving it, by the way. How did you pull that off?”

The spiky-haired girl looks smug. “It was easy. The Earl just told us to get the Ark back, no matter who we had to kill. It wasn’t just me, though,” the young girl concedes. “Lulu Bell was the one who infiltrated and distracted everyone in the Asian Branch while I snuck in and took back the Ark. I think she was in a bad mood, though, because I heard a lot of humans screaming. There weren’t even any exorcists on duty—Lulu Bell probably killed a lot of them with the Akuma. She just got back not too long ago, actually. She’s sleeping it off. Anyway, I’m sure the humans still alive at the Asian Branch will alert Headquarters soon enough.”

Tyki smiles at her, for once not annoyed with his niece. Her retrieval of the Ark had been inadvertently helpful. After he had stumbled out of the shower, he had returned to the dining room in a lustful, angry rage, only to be informed of the successful return of the Ark’s portal. Needless to say, he had arrived at the headquarters of the Black Order not much later.

“Thank you, Road,” he says cordially.

“All in a day’s work, I guess. Now, let’s see…where are we going to put Allen?” Road places two fingers on her chin, for all the world looking more akin to a pensive adult than a young girl. She stares intently at the girl still cradled in Tyki’s arms, and the man has an instinct that is telling him to be wary of Road’s thoughts. His niece could be quite twisted when she so chose.

“I have an idea!” she exclaims. “Why don’t I set up one of the other rooms for her? Or a dream world? Whichever one you prefer.”

Evidently, this is not one of Road’s more psychotic moments. Tyki nods. “A dream world would be better,” he says begrudgingly. “We don’t want her to be able to use her Innocence.”

“Really?” Road whines. “But it would be so much more _fun_ if I could play with her and her Innocence.”

“I thought you said it was my choice, dear Road. I believe _I’m_ the one who captured her.”

“What about me and Jasdero?” Devitto chimes in angrily, a scowl on his made-up face. “We have a bone to pick with her master. All these bills are cluttering up our room!”

“We want to talk to her, too! Hee hee!"

 _Ugh_. Tyki’s going to get a legitimate migraine if the three of them don’t let up. “Can we talk about this later? I really would like to put her down now.” He doesn’t want to admit it, but his arms are starting to get sore.

“Okay, Tyki!” Road concedes. “I’ll bring one of the spare rooms here for you for her to stay in until she wakes up. Just come back through when you’re done with her.”

Before the man has a chance to respond, the wall to his right begins to waver and ripple like waves. A new door appears, made of a dark chestnut wood and topped off with a regal doorknob.

“There you go,” Road tells him cheerfully. “It’s only temporary, so it’s not much. Until you give me the layout for what you want the dream world to look like, it’ll have to do. I’ll stick her in it once she wakes up.”

Tyki nods once in gratitude to the younger girl. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Tyki!” she calls out in an upbeat tone as the man makes his way to the door. He vaguely hears Road calling for Lero as the door clicks shut behind him.

He starts when he sees the room. _This_ is Road’s idea of “not much?”

The whole room is swathed in fine white wallpaper with bright gold trimmings. There is a large, circular vanity mirror on one wall, and the bed lies on the opposite side. An intricate chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its many golden curves and embedded jewels glittering in the candlelight that radiates from the surface of the dresser and the bedside table. The bed is king-sized, Tyki realizes with a thrill. Had Road done that on purpose?

He sighs pointedly, then proceeds to lay the unconscious girl down on the bed. He sits beside her, sinking into the heavenly soft mattress and plump off-white covers.

He stares intently at her face all the while. The light from the dim candles makes her look even more angelic than before, and with a jolt he sees the blood still on her temple. He licks a gray thumb, and wipes it off carefully, not wishing to wake her quite yet.

Suddenly, his dream about her comes rushing back to the front of his mind. He swallows, his face now flushed.

He can do it. He can take her right here, at this moment. They are alone.

 _But no,_ he thinks with a resigned sigh. _She’s not conscious. It’s meaningless if she isn’t awake when I take her_. He would prefer to not have her put into one of Road’s created worlds at all, even though he is able to enter as well. But it’s necessary; at least he will have some time with her after she wakes up before the young Noah entrances her.

Still…

He wants to be with her again. He wants to see her eyes, her expressions—her pleasure, and her pain.

 _After all_ , he ponders as he heads back towards the door, casting one last glance over his shoulder, _there’s no victory if she doesn’t even know she’s been beaten._

That last thought may not have been entirely his own.

He leaves, feeling irritated once again at the prospect of leaving her to her own devices.

For now, he will wait.


	6. A Wave of Confusion

“Nurse, we need help over here! Lavi-san’s head wound won’t stop bleeding!”

Komui Lee hears the medical assistants’ panicked murmurs, watches the endless hustling of the aides around the room, smells the antiseptic and the disinfectant, tastes the sense of doom and failure, and feels the desperate aura that is all but palpable in the medical wing. He can only watch from Lenalee’s bedside as the Head Nurse bustles from his sister’s cot to the redhead’s, her stance professional and determined.

“Get me some more bandages,” she snaps at one of the aides, who nods his head and does as she asks. A bead of sweat falls from her brow as she works tirelessly to save the future Bookman.

The current one is standing morosely by his apprentice’s side, head bowed and hands clasped in what looks to the Chinese man like a prayer. His dark panda eyes are closed, and not a sound escapes the old man’s lips.

They are all dealing with the chaos in their own way; in Komui’s case, he is sweating profusely, almost near a nervous breakdown as a result of his worry for his little sister and the exorcists he has sworn to protect. He lets his gaze fall back to his younger sister, whose pretty face is peaceful in her concussed slumber. Of the three exorcists who had suffered damage, hers is the least serious. That’s about the only ray of hope the Chief of Headquarters has at the moment, however: Lavi is still in critical condition, his head wound being much more serious than Lenalee’s and drawing a lot more blood.

And Allen is missing.

Komui covers his face with his hands, feeling more like an utter failure than the Chief.

From behind him, there is a grunt and a shuffling of cloth, and Komui turns around to see one Kanda Yuu sitting up in bed, clutching his bandaged chest like a lifeline. The Chief sighs in relief, moving to the samurai’s side and examining his exposed upper body. His seal had thankfully activated just in time to save his life; the strange tattoo had expanded to the point of almost entirely covering his shoulder, a consequence of the heavy damage he had sustained.

“Kanda?” Komui says firmly, staring intently at the curtain of dark hair that obscures the exorcist’s face. “How are you feeling?”

The samurai grunts again, then lifts his head to lock his gray eyes with Komui’s. “Komui?” he groans out, still clutching his chest as though something is missing.

The crazy scientist nods. “Yes. Are you feeling okay, Kanda? You nearly died not too long ago.”

“Tch,” the irritable man scoffs. “I can’t die.”

Komui nods again, but sighs at the man’s acute stubbornness. “For now, at least, that seems to be the case. Kanda,” he begins, taking the man’s shoulder, “can you tell me what happened? Which Noah came here? What did they do?” He swallows. “Where is Allen?”

The dazed man takes a moment to comprehend Komui’s question before his face suddenly pales dramatically. His slanted eyes grow to nearly twice their normal size, and he throws the remaining sheets off of his body before making to get out of bed entirely.

“Kanda!” the Chinese man exclaims, grabbing his shoulders in an attempt to force him back into bed. He resists, and Komui knows he cannot restrain the temperamental man by himself. “Help!”

Several medical assistants come to Komui’s aid, each grabbing a part of Kanda in the hopes of pinning him down. When they finally manage to get him back into bed—with the help of some high-grade shackles that are now attached to the cot—Komui is huffing and puffing while the samurai is seething dangerously.

“What is going on, Kanda?” he demands with more force in his tone.

The swordsman looks up at him with large eyes filled with a level of emotion he had never before seen in the man, even when he had been fighting Akuma.

“He took her. The Moyashi.” His voice is breathless and rushed.

“You mean Allen?” Komui leans closer to Kanda’s bedside. “Who took her, Kanda?”

The man closes his gray eyes. “The curly-haired Noah. Tyki-something. He said…he said that he was ordered by the Earl to take her back with him. Let me _go_ , dammit!”

Komui ignores Kanda’s request, instead leaning back in his seat and letting the new information sink in as it washes over him. “Take her back with him? Not kill her? But…why? That doesn’t make sense…unless…”

_Unless he wants to use her for something._

As Komui ponders, Kanda is still struggling against the restraints the aides had placed on him. “Let me _go_. I’m the strongest exorcist at Headquarters! Someone has to go after the Moyashi!”

“You aren’t well enough yet, Kanda-san,” one of the aides tells him in a timid voice while nervously fiddling with her hands. “We don’t even know where Walker-san is.”

At that moment, one of the finders comes barreling into the ward, coming to an abrupt halt in front of Komui. He quickly gives a salute to his Chief while catching his breath.

“Uh, Chief Komui, Hevlaska is asking for Allen Walker in her chamber. She says it’s urgent.”

_Dammit! Of all the times…_

“Very well,” Komui says with a resigned sigh. “I’ll go see her, then.” He stands up, nodding to the Nurse’s aides as he does so. “Take good care of them, please.”

“Of course, Chief.” they all nod eagerly, their brows collectively coming together in a show of determination.

And with that, Komui Lee sweeps out of the room.

* * *

 Tyki is fidgeting in his skin. He really does _not_ want to be sitting in a chair at the dining table; rather, he wants to return to the room Road had bestowed upon his white-haired exorcist.

 _She could be waking up at any moment_ , he thinks, drumming his fingers incessantly on the table. And instead of being there, he is stuck waiting in the dining hall for the other members of his family to show themselves. _Where are they? I bet Sheril’s still sleeping. He spends far too much time at those balls he so enjoys throwing._

Tyki himself is very composed and cordial at those types of events, but that doesn’t mean he really enjoys dancing with hundreds of drooling noblemen’s daughters. Not since he had met Allen Walker, at least.

Those other women, who so blatantly blush and babble and backstab each other for the sake of getting ahead in life, used to be marginally entertaining to him. It used to be amusing, how they would all but fall to their knees for the chance to dance and spend a night with him. It had once even been an uplifting and welcome reaction.

But now? He looks back at all of those times, and all of the times since meeting Allen Walker, and he now only finds their immature behavior annoying and at worst, simply degrading. He can’t even recall the last time he had enjoyed going to a ball, just for fear of being coupled with the most sexually promiscuous female. Promiscuity isn’t something he rejects in a woman; he does prefer to be the dominant one, but he has no problem with a confident, daring vixen.

But he doesn’t want those women. He wants one woman in particular. Surprisingly enough, Allen Walker is the first who hadn’t been willing to fall to her knees for him. It must be some cruelly ironic joke that he is drawn to her.

Yet, a tiny voice in the back of his mind, one that is purely Tyki, very much likes that about her.

He tries to tune out the ceaseless bickering of the twins, sending Road an exasperated look across the table—one that she promptly returns. So far, it’s only the four of them.

The next minute sees the arrival of Skin—who thunders in muttering about wanting to eat something sweet—and in a few more minutes, Sheril and Wisely enter as well.

Tyki’s brother is dressed impeccably, his monocle over his eye and immaculate form standing tall and regal. He takes a seat directly across from him, shooting a sultry smile towards the Noah of Pleasure.

Wisely, his long scarf wrapped around his forehead, takes a seat at the end of the table, directly next to Tyki.

_Hmph. Damn mind reader._

The Noah to his side shoots Tyki a slightly annoyed expression, but quickly regains his aloof demeanor.

“Good evening, Tyki,” Sheril says calmly, propping his chin up with the back of his hand. “You’re looking quite fine this evening.”

Tyki’s skin crawls at the statement that comes from his own brother, and turns up his nose ever so slightly. He nods distractedly at the other Noah’s greeting.

Sheril’s attention turns to Road; he places a hand atop her blue head in unabashed affection. “Hello, my dear!” His voice even goes up a few octaves.

“Good evening, Father,” the spiky-haired girl coos, showing her dimples as she grins up at the strangely doting Noah of Desire.

“You know he’s not your real father, right, Road?” Tyki sighs.

“Of course I do, Tyki,” the young girl responds, “but I like being young. It’s fun to pretend.”

Tyki only sighs, leaning onto his elbow. He is far too irritated to speak pleasantries without fear of revealing his present state of mind. And with Wisely here, it’s only too easy to slip back into thoughts he shouldn’t be having. So he retreats back into his head, closing his eyes with a heavy exhale.

He jolts them open when a familiar dominating presence fills the room. The fat man known as the Millennium Earl is sitting at the opposite head of the table, his grin unusually wide and belly unusually round. Tyki notes with a strange feeling that the glint of his glasses seems to be sharper than normal as well. He immediately sits up straighter in his seat—just like every time the Earl decides to grace him with his presence.

The large man surveys the table, seemingly searching for one person in particular. “Hmm…where is Lulu Bell?” he questions.

“Still resting, Lord Millennium,” Road informs her master. “She had a long day.”

“Ah, yes!” the fat man exclaims jovially. “The retaking of the Ark. Brilliant work, Road. I knew I could count on you two. That’s precisely the move we needed to make in this long-running war with the exorcists. However, there is one reason in particular that I called you all here—but it seems you have already beaten me. I could smell that girl’s presence a mile away. Now, tell me—where are you keeping Allen Walker?”

Tyki tenses, his spine going ramrod straight and his hands stiffening into mighty claws on the table. He looks toward the Earl—who, he realizes with a sinking feeling, is already staring at him.

He swallows, and smiles passively—though on the inside, he is wishing to rewind time. “Lord Millennium, I have brought the exorcist here as a hostage from my attack on the Black Order Headquarters.”

The Earl sits silently for a moment, during which the Portuguese man notices Wisely’s pointed glance in his direction.

 _Act natural_ , he tells himself. _She’s just a hostage. Nothing more_. Tyki wills the Noah beside him to stop staring so heatedly.

Suddenly, the Earl guffaws. Then, he does so again, until he is laughing with the utmost glee of a child who has just won a long-coveted prize.

“Tyki-pon!” he cries out, wiping his eyes with a graying handkerchief. “I always had such high hopes for you. It seems you do not even need my command anymore. How did you know I was going to order Allen Walker’s capture?”

This must be Tyki’s luckiest moment. _Fate must be merciful today_. “Well,” he explains with a monumentally lighter tone, “I recalled your concerns from our last meeting, so I decided to take the initiative.”

“Hm,” the Earl ponders, two fingers on his chin. “I have no reason to doubt you, Tyki-pon. You have earned my praise. However, I would like to remind you to defer to my commands from now on. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Lord Millennium—though I do wish you would stop calling me that.” _That stupid nickname._

“Now then,” the rotund man continues, “I believe I made it clear last time that Allen Walker is an unforeseen factor in this war. Her Innocence is exemplary, and her new powers are not well known. As it is, Tyki-pon knows the most about her abilities, having fought her already.” He places his hands on the table, and his voice takes on a demanding tone. “Therefore, it will be better if he were to undertake this next mission. Tyki-pon”—he points one long, gray pointer finger towards the Noah of Pleasure—“you will be responsible for the interrogation and retrieval of all knowledge Allen Walker possesses on the Black Order. Their strategies, their weak points, the status of the other exorcists—I want to know everything that she knows. I will have Wisely assist you, of course, but you will be the one taking care of her. Try not to kill her, though—not yet.”

“But wait,” Road interjects. “If we’re going to use Wisely’s power, we can’t put her in a dream world at the same time. It won’t work.”

“Yes,” the Earl concedes with a nod, “which is why you will bring her out whenever Tyki wishes to do so.”

Tyki is shocked and tongue-tied, as well as conflicted; in the back of his mind, Joyd cackles in delight. The smile reaches Tyki’s lips as well, even if it is not reflective of the inner turmoil raging inside him. “Of course, Lord Millennium. I will do absolutely everything in my power to learn what Allen Walker knows.” He means it, too; nothing in his life had ever had as much purpose as his duty to the Earl. Not even his numerous exploits and frolics with women as Tyki the Miner, as important and exciting to his life as they may be, constitute a “purpose.” They are a significant part of his life, but service to the Earl is his calling as a Noah.

And somehow, Allen Walker had managed to become a part of both of them.

How is he supposed to feel about this? Torturing her for the Earl, using _Wisely_ of all people to probe into her mind…how is he supposed to feel? There is certainly a part of him that is excited at the prospect. He wants to claim her, to make her his, to dominate and manipulate her so that she is opened to his scrutiny—so that everything she is and will ever be is bared to him.

But there is another part of him that wants this solely for his own sake; not for the Earl’s, not for Wisely’s, and definitely not for Joyd’s. He wants Allen Walker selfishly and wholly, not because she is an enemy; he wants to want her not because the Earl or Joyd or anyone else made it so, but because of his own desires, for his own pleasure. Because she is simply herself.

And he doesn’t quite know how to handle this realization.

“Pardon me,” he says politely, faking a yawn. “May I be excused? I fear that it has been a long day.”

“You too, Tyki?” Road exclaims, “How come both you and Lulu Bell are so tired?”

“It is fine, Road. Let Tyki-pon get his rest. It has been quite a long day for him,” the Earl relents, shooting a satisfied smile towards the Noah of Pleasure.

Tyki nods once in gratitude towards the Earl before leaving, only one thing (person, more accurately) on his mind. 

* * *

 

It is hours later before he finally has an opportunity to go see his exorcist again.

All of the other members of his family have left the dining hall, but the door Road had summoned remains. It looks the same as it had hours before, but this time there are butterflies in his stomach as he stares blankly at the chestnut. He opens the door, and sighs in both disappointment and relief.

She is still asleep, her white hair splayed all around her pale face, some of it reaching teasingly into the collar of her coat. In that position, with the glowing light of the nearly burned-out candles on her face, she looks nothing short of an angel. He is relieved that she is here with him, but also put off by the fact that she hasn’t yet awoken. Perhaps he had hit her harder than he had intended; the thought nearly sends him into a panic, but it abruptly lifts when he sees her shift ever so slightly in her sleep.

He smirks deviously, and stealthily approaches the bed, mindful of her slumber. He slides up next to her, propping himself up on one elbow to stare down at her sleeping face.

Briefly, he wonders what she will do when she wakes up; what she will think and say first. _She probably won’t say anything; she’ll just try to attack me again_ , he reasons with a hint of dry humor. Quickly, he fashions a long length of rope using the dark matter he materializes in his palms. He wraps the pink ropes of light around her wrists—especially tight, considering her anti-Akuma weapon—and binds them to the headboard for extra security. He leaves her legs alone; her kicks won’t hurt him anyway. Then he settles back down beside her, brushing a lock of white hair out of her face.

 _Perfect_ , he muses _. Just like an angel. A deadly, deadly angel_. It’s funny—how innocent and pure she looks, even when Tyki knows that she is made to kill. The things she destroys may be twisted, mechanized creations forged from human suffering, but their destruction is no less violent than that of an actual person. How a short, skinny, pretty girl like her could ever be a killer of Akuma is beyond him. Yet, at the same time, it draws him to her. He just wishes that she wouldn’t try to kill him on a regular basis, because seeing her like this—so defenseless, so trusting in her slumber—is as much of a turn-on as watching her spit in defiance.          

He lays his head down on the pillow beside her and closes his eyes. He wraps his long arms around her, drawing her limp form closer to his own body. He nuzzles her neck with his nose, inhaling her intoxicatingly earthy scent.

_Amazing._

The hollow of her throat is smooth, soft as feathery down, and calms him as much as it excites him. He tangles his legs with hers, savoring the feeling of her warm body plastered to his own. He has never done this before—lain with someone so intimately without sex involved.

At that thought, his blood begins to heat up, drawing a low murmur of need from his throat. He parts his lips, placing them to her throat in a gentle kiss. It’s too slow; he slides his tongue out, and delivers an open-mouthed kiss to the same area. He clamps down on her slender neck, lavishing sucks and small nibbles on her flesh. He hears above him a breathy sigh, and realizes with a contented smirk that she is still reacting to him, even in her sleep.

Slowly, he slides his lips up, edging closer and closer to her earlobe. He takes the piece of cartilage between his teeth, nibbling ever so slightly, while he runs a brave hand deftly up her side. He feels her warm skin beneath his appendage, the heat radiating off of her in waves that pierce the shell of his own body. How is she doing this to him, when she is not even awake? How is she so unfailingly tempting to a person such as he?

This will not do; she has to be awake, to pay attention to him.

In a whisper, he speaks to her.

“ _Wake up, girl.”_

* * *

 Allen expects to be lying prone in a bed in the medical wing of Headquarters when she wakes up (once again). At first, that is where she thinks she is.

However, in all of her time with the Black Order, she had never been tied to the bed while resting after a fight.

As her mind slowly becomes more aware of her surroundings, she registers the warmth beside her, pervading her very bones. There is a pressure on her side, on her legs—and, shockingly enough, warm breath blowing over her ear.

The white-haired girl gasps as her eyes fly open in surprise—and there, hovering above her with his familiar sultry golden gaze, is Tyki Mikk.

As she sees him, her eyes roving over his form, the very first emotion she feels is dread. Pure, stifling dread. His hungry eyes are on her, seeming to push and shove and force their way into her soul as he devours her helpless form. She is lying below him, tied up with rope that for the life of her she cannot break; they must be made of dark matter, otherwise her Crown Clown would be more than enough to get rid of them. As it is, her Innocence doesn’t even activate, even with the prodding of her mind. Her stomach quickly sinks to some unidentified region far below her feet.

The second emotion she feels is confusion, namely due to the question of where she is and why she is there as opposed to being a dead amputee buried beneath the rubble of Headquarters.

The third is anger.

Her voice is dry and cracked when she speaks, but her words are vocal enough. “What the—where am I? Mikk—”

In a flash, his gray hand is over her mouth, stifling the question she had been attempting to force out. She tenses up at his rapid movement, fear flitting visibly across her features. He smiles charmingly, and Allen’s insides swirl in nervousness.

“Please, call me Tyki,” he says in a much quieter voice than she would have expected of him. His voice is still silky, not that she had foreseen anything to the contrary. “You are in the Ark, girl. I brought you here.”

Allen tries to stop the reflexive trembling of her body, but she is sure that he can sense it regardless. His hand still covering her mouth, he continues talking. “At first I simply wanted to see you again, so I decided to pay your Headquarters a visit. I really just wanted to take you and leave—that unlucky finder was more of a formality than anything else—but unfortunately, your friends got in the way. It seems you really are loved by the Order.”

Her eyes widen in rage and worry at his words. _Lenalee, Lavi…Kanda_! She suddenly remembers the shape the samurai had been in; he had been coughing up blood, more of the scarlet liquid blooming from his chest as he had tried in vain to get her to abandon him…

 _I’m so stupid! How could I have let myself get distracted like that? Lenalee…Lavi…Kanda…Oh, God, please let them be alright! Please_ ….

Tyki must see the cogs in her brain turning, because he lets out a disapprovingly lighthearted sigh. “Don’t worry, girl. Your friends aren’t dead yet—well, maybe they are. I didn’t stick around to find out. I understand how you feel, though. It’s hard to lose friends, isn’t it? Even harder to not know if they’re dead or alive.”

His words and the sadistic grin that accompany them only serve to exacerbate Allen’s worry, and she is overcome with a sense of, above all else, failure. Once again, she had failed to protect her friends; not only that, but she couldn’t even protect herself. And now, she is trapped in Noah’s Ark, bound as a prisoner to the Clan of Noah and the Earl himself, and subjected for a second time to the whims of the crazed man who had already defiled her body.

The tears well up before she can stop them, escaping her silver eyes and rolling across her cheeks, only to be stopped by the roadblock of Tyki’s hand. She blinks her eyes furiously, willing the traitorous beads of saltwater to stop. How can this one man make her feel so weak? So incapable of putting on a strong front? She feels so helpless around him, so alone; even Neah is being suspiciously silent, almost as though he is masking his presence. It doesn’t make sense.

As the gray-skinned man looks down at her, she sees his face twist from a grin to a frown, his disgruntled gaze locked onto the path of her tears. “Why are you crying, girl?”

 _Because you’ve probably killed thousands of innocent people. Because you tried to kill me and my friends. Because you’re going to kill me. Because of what happened in the forest all that time ago. Because I am weak, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, every time I’m near you, it’s hard to breathe._ None of these thoughts leave the safety of her mouth.

Finally, after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence, his hand releases her lips. She stays silent anyway, not trusting herself to speak without bursting into uncontrollable sobs. The tears, as though they have a will of their own, continue to run silently down her face—but then, the Noah does something she does not expect.

He reaches his hand up to her face—and wipes the tragic drops away with his own fingers, catching each one as they pour from her eyes like a fountain.

“Come on, girl,” he says with a cocky lilt to his voice. “Aren’t you happy to see me again? Or are these tears of joy?”

All semblances of surprise quickly give way to bitterness. A surge of anger flows through her, and she finally finds the will to speak.

“Why am I here?” Her question is a timid whisper, a barely-felt breeze blowing in the vast golden room.

“I already told you, girl,” he replies with a small smile, bringing his mouth to her ear. “Because I wanted to see you again. And so does the Earl.”

Her blood freezes, congealing in her veins so that she feels she might have a heart attack at any moment. The Earl. She should have known that he ordered this. How many times had she tried to thwart him (and had even succeeded)? Not to mention the fact that she literally cheated death and came back to fight against his attack in Edo, helping to drive away the last Noah there. The thoughts of what he is going to do to her are enough to make her want to sink into the mattress beneath her and never come out. She had known she would have to fight him—she had already been prophesized as the “Destroyer of Time,” a post which Bookman had already let slip that he believed to be the one who would kill the Earl.

However, she had never considered what to do if he had her captured. Will he torture her? Interrogate her and question her until she is but a lifeless husk? She finds that the former options are at least acceptable; she is prepared to die, after all, in order to keep the Earl from getting any information on the Order.

But one other scenario stands out in her mind. Will he leave her to Tyki’s ministrations? The knot of dread in her stomach grows tighter; that is the thought that makes her blood run cold.

Tyki clicks his tongue at her expression. “Stop looking so scared, girl. I won’t let you die just yet,” he tells her as he runs his palm over her cheek. This statement is the opposite of reassuring, but she doesn’t have much time to dwell on it as she suddenly feels an exhalation of warm breath on her neck.

She shivers involuntarily, and he chuckles in response. “You’re still so sensitive, eh, girl? You haven’t been with anyone else since our encounter, right?” He reaches his tongue out and licks the hollow of her throat—his favorite place to mark her, apparently. “I like that.”

She closes her eyes tightly. _No, please. Not again…why won’t he leave me alone?_

He nuzzles her throat. “Did you miss me, girl? It seems as though your body did.”

She says nothing.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He laughs at his own statement, and resumes the elegant torture on her throat. Just like before, he takes great care in abusing her neck, marking it with bites and fervent sucks on her delicate skin. He suckles her pulse point slowly, firmly, until it is raw, causing her to let out a small hiss of mutual pain and pleasure.

Somehow, she finds her voice again.

“Stop.”

That one word, surprisingly, causes Tyki to halt in his actions, his hands pausing in their delicate caress of her hips. His fingers rub slow circles on her hipbones, making her abdomen shiver reflexively. He brings his lips across her face to hover over her own, releasing a breathy chuckle as he does so.

“You’re still the same stubborn exorcist, aren’t you, girl? You still don’t want me to have my way. Well, I have the upper hand here.”

Before she even knows what he is doing, his hand darts down, cupping her sex in his palm while his middle digit applies pressure to her most sensitive area. She gasps into his mouth, and he grins at her reaction. His finger begins to rub slow, torturous circles on her clit, enough to work her body into a heated frenzy but not nearly enough to satiate her newly-revived need.

“See, girl? Your body has already completely succumbed to me. Now, it doesn’t matter what you say you want—I know better.” He stops the erotic movement of his finger, causing Allen’s body to whine and shift in protest despite her internal disgust at his words. “You are mine, Allen Walker.”

Her eyes grow huge at the implication of his words—but before she can formulate a response, the Noah of Pleasure moves off of her. He stands straight and tall by her bed, looking as nonplussed as though he hadn’t just been touching her intimately. She is all at once dumbfounded, frightened, and more aroused than she has ever been in her life. The mass of negative emotions and physical desire are enough to nearly drive her mad—if it were not for the steady footsteps that she heard approaching.

Not even ten seconds later, there is a squeak as the door to the room is forced open on rusty hinges. Allen holds her breath, expecting the new arrival to be the Earl himself—only to be surprised when in steps none other than Road Camelot. Someone else enters behind her—a young man whose white hair is wrapped snugly in a patterned scarf. She has never seen him before.

The young, blue-haired girl is the first one to speak—and, as always, Allen is struck by her childishly sinister demeanor.

“Hello, Tyki! Are you keeping the exorcist company? How out of character for you!”

The other Noah rolls his eyes, and Allen shifts her attention to the other male—the one she doesn’t know. Although she has never met him, she can tell immediately that is a Noah. He, too, has gray skin like the others, an indication of his Noah heritage. However, he seems different than the others she had met so far; he is more aloof and nonchalant, more disinterested in his surroundings than any other members of the Noah Clan that she had seen—except for perhaps Lulu Bell. In any case, he looks to be around her age, if not a bit older. She stores his existence away for future reference. When she gets out of here— _if_ , she corrects herself glumly—she will have valuable information for the Order.

She sees the boy’s eyes narrow slightly as he looks pointedly at her, but he soon shifts his gaze to the other two Noah in the room. “Oi, Tyki,” he says in a bored tone. “There’s been a change of plans.”

The Noah of Pleasure narrows his eyes. “Oh? What is it?”

Road pipes up then, her voice cheerful yet businesslike. “Lord Millennium created a new room in the Ark, specifically for Allen.” She turns to glance at the immobile exorcist, who feels a cold flush settle over her body in an unintended response to the younger girl’s gaze. “He wants us to keep her in there from now on, at all times.”

Tyki grunts, but nods his head; evidently, he has conceded to the request, though Allen can tell he doesn’t like it. “I suppose there’s a problem with this room?”

“Nope. The Earl just wants her to be kept in there. Are you going to try to convince him not to?”

“Hmph.” He lights up a cigarette instead of giving a worded answer, blowing the smoke from his first hit into the scarf-wearing guy’s face.

“Hey!” the guy objects. “Can you not blow your smoke into my face?” He waves it away irritably.

Tyki doesn’t answer, but an irked expression soon overcomes the scarf-guy’s face.

Road giggles cheerfully, ignoring her family’s one-sided bickering as she bounds over to the side of the bed. She plops down next to the white-haired girl, kicking her legs in barely-concealed excitement. “I’ve missed you, Allen! You were so much fun to play with in the Rewinding Town.”

“Good to know,” the exorcist mumbles, not feeling up to humoring the youngest (biologically) member of the Noah Clan.

“The Earl isn’t happy, though. He’s actually quite cross with you right now. He even made an entire room just for you!” Her eyes narrow mischievously, the golden tint darkening to an aged brass. “I can’t wait for you to see it! You’ll have to wait for a bit, though. Right now, you have to go to sleep, so I’m going to put you into a dream world. We can’t risk you running around with that arm of yours while we get you situated.”

Allen’s eyes widen in fear, and looking around the room, all she sees are enemies. No one can help her escape Road’s fearsome power.

_No! I can’t be put into one of Road’s dreams! Who knows what could happen to me while I’m under her spell?_

_Who knows what Tyki could do to me?_

But before she even has a chance to protest, Allen sees the objects in the corner of her vision begin to swim, to shimmer in a glorious manner, fading away into a fabricated world she cannot begin to fathom.

Soon, the dream overtakes her, and she knows no more.

 


	7. A World of Dreams

Komui marches onto the hovering platform with Reever by his side, determined to get to the bottom of the situation. Hevlaska had asked to see Allen—who, according to Kanda, had been kidnapped by the Noah—at the single worst possible time. What could be so urgent that she needs to see the quirky exorcist right now, while all of the Order's other on-duty ones are in the medical wing?

Has something happened to Allen's Innocence? Something that the deity can feel? Has it been destroyed?

Is Allen Walker dead?

Komui's stomach churns with dread at the thought of losing both a friend and someone so dear to the Order. _No, she can't be_ , he thinks. _Hevlaska called her the Destroyer of Time! She can't die yet…_

For some reason, that thought isn't comforting—probably because that means she's with the Earl and the Noah.

She's still in the clutches of the enemy.

When the two scientists make it up to Hevlaska's chamber, the floating deity is already waiting for them.

"Where is Allen Walker?" she asks, having already taken notice of the fact that the young woman is not with them. "I must speak with her. It is urgent."

Komui wets his throat, and proceeds to deliver the bad news. "Allen is missing, Hevlaska. She was taken by the Noah. We don't know where she is right now, or even if she's alive."

If the guardian of Headquarters could be surprised, this is what her expression would look like. Yet there is no worry or dismay in her countenance, only a sense of urgency. "She is alive. I can feel her Innocence exists somewhere. You must find her and bring her back, Komui. There is little time left."

The Chief's brows furrow. "Little time? Little time until what?"

"For the new prophecy to come to fruition."

He must be gaping at her, because she continues on undeterred. "You know that Allen Walker is special to the Order, Komui. Her Innocence will bring forth a great Destroyer of Time. But there is more that I have recently seen.

"To stop time, two must come together who once, many years ago, only shared hate and a history of suffering. The heart seethes in pain and regret, the soul in hate, love, and vengeance. Though the two often stew in conflict, the heart cannot survive without the soul, and the soul cannot survive without the heart. They must join and bring forth a new era—the era of the mind, for only the nurtured mind can halt time's steady crawl forward."

Silence. Komui's ears are ringing with the obscure words of Hevlaska's prediction.

 _So there's more to this prophecy than just Allen? Hev's never mentioned any of this before…_ Now he understands why she needs to talk to the white-haired girl. Despite the additional information, Allen still rests at the center of the prophecy. The Order—no, the _world_ —needs her back. They can't afford to leave her with the Earl for any length of time.

 _What am I going to do? None of the generals are here, Marie is with Tiedoll, Lenalee and Lavi are still unconscious, Kanda is still too angry and reckless…_ The idea of sending the samurai on a rescue mission so soon, especially with so little help, causes guilt to gnaw at the Chinese man's stomach.

But he knows he has no choice. He has to send someone to go find Allen—but first, he has to find out where she is.

"Chief Komui!" Reever interrupts him, hand on his wireless communicator; Komui had left his behind in the medical wing in his hurry. "There's an incoming call from the Asian Branch! They're saying they've been attacked!"

* * *

 

Not for the first time, Allen is confused when she opens her eyes. The feeling is completely surreal, because she is suddenly lying on a floor rather than a bed, staring up not at a candle-lit chandelier but a stark, pure white ceiling. The color is so radiant that it hurts her eyes.

Immediately, she knows what has happened—she is in Road's dream. She has to be; a room so white and untouched surely does not exist in nature and cannot be real.

She sits up slowly, cautious of her surroundings. Who knows what Road could do to her here? It' a place completely subject to her whims and desires—to any of the twisted scenarios her mind can conjure up. Allen remembers with a jolt the time she had spent with Road in the Rewinding Town—that dark, foreboding place she had trapped all of them in.

Once again recalling the bodily harm that had come to her there, the white-haired girl shudders to imagine what will be done to her now.

_Plip. Plip. Plip._

The hairs on the back of the exorcist's neck stand up at the sound of something faintly dripping to her side. She slowly turns her head…

…only to come face-to-face with one of her worst nightmares.

Kanda, characteristic scowl included, is standing in front of her, staring lifelessly at her as blood soaks the cloth over his chest. The crimson liquid is also spilling from his mouth, falling to the spotless floor rapidly.

 _Plip. Plip. Plip._ The dripping grows louder.

She gasps, horrified at the sight before her—of one of her closest friends (even if he hates her) bleeding to death as he had been right before she was kidnapped. Standing at both of his sides are Lenalee and Lavi, both looking as battered and corpse-like as the Japanese man between them.

Allen scrambles to her feet, backing up to the far wall in an effort to get as far away from the terrifying image as possible. There are no doors for her to run to.

 **"So you're just going to give up and cower? What kind of disciple of God are you, Allen?"** Neah's voice pulls her back from the brink of screaming, and she sighs mentally, squeezing her eyes shut.

_If I don't look at them, they'll disappear._

**"This isn't one of your typical nightmares, Niece. It won't go away if you ignore it. It's under the control of another. You have to face it."**

She ignores Neah, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. She feels overwhelmed and mentally taxed by the situation; she doesn't want to deal with a Noah inside her head on top of it all.

Finally, she gives in. _Where have you been? Why have you been silent until now?_

She doesn't know how she can tell, but she can sense Neah's mental shrug. **"I was trying to mask my presence so that the other Noah couldn't sense me. Noahs are able to sense others of their kind nearby, if their presence is strong enough. You have never fully awakened, so they cannot sense me fully yet. I didn't want to make you** **appear suspicious by talking to you."** He pauses for a moment. **"As you probably can't tell, the other Noah do not like me very much."**

… _Why?_

A pause greets her question. Then, **"It's a long story, but suffice it to say that the others gravely dislike me and wish to see me dead; my sentiments are the same for them. I almost lost control of myself a few times. I nearly took over your body in Edo, I wanted to get Joyd so badly…"**

A jolt of realization passes through her. _So that's what it was! That blinding headache—it was you trying to take over my body?_

**"Yes. I do apologize for that, by the way. I managed to restrain myself at the last second."**

_But why? I thought you wanted me to awaken._

**"Edo was not the time or the place, and neither is the Ark. If you awaken right now, I will be at the mercy of the Earl. You need to get out of here first."**

_…I don't trust you._

**"You don't have to. As of right now, however, we have the same goal: escape the Ark. What will you choose to do, Allen?"**

She ponders her options. She can either stay here to be interrogated and most likely killed, or she can escape and possibly become a Noah. Which should she choose?

Without much thought, she already knows her answer. If there's a chance for her to get back to her friends, she'll take it, no matter the risk. That's the kind of person she is.

_Okay. For now, we have the same goal. I'll cooperate with you for the time being…Neah._

She can feel the Noah inside of her smile—but it doesn't come across as evil or purposely vague. It's more like a smile of relief. **"Good, because you are fairly strong."**

She smirks as well. _What did you have in mind?_

* * *

 

Tyki finds the room the Earl has decided to give to Allen infinitely less comfortable than the previous one. For starters, the place can't even be classified as a room; a much more appropriate term to use would be cell. Because that's exactly what it is—a drab, windowless box of gray brick and old mildew. It can barely be called more than four walls and a ceiling (and that, from Tyki's perspective, is the gravest insult). Even the places he'd stayed at with his human friends as Tyki the Miner had been more hospitable.

On one of the walls, there is a set of old handcuffs bolted into the brick and attached to a set of rusty chains composed of dark matter. They give off a faint glow as Allen Walker is shackled into them.

Tyki is the one who is chaining the girl; he steadfastly offered to do so, not feeling comfortable with Wisely doing it. Road, for her part, had simply stood in the background and not said a word at Tyki's strange request. She had merely watched the scene unfold with apathetic eyes—after, of course, stealing the young woman's exorcist coat and wrapping it around herself. Allen had been left in only a pair of leggings and a tank top.

Currently the Noah of Pleasure, in spite of his inherent dislike of the dark, cold cellar, is somehow deriving an immense perverse gratification from being the one to chain the young woman. It reminds him of the first time he had encountered her, when she had been pinned and helpless beneath him. His blood sings again, but he tries to hide that fact from the other Noah in the room.

When the second cuff clicks shut, Tyki allows his hands to linger over her delicate wrists. He frowns, and releases her with some hesitance. As soon as he does, however, she slumps against the dirty wall, her head on her chin and her white hair obscuring her face. His hidden scowl deepens; he enjoys observing her face—her white locks, while exotic, only seem to get in the way of her other notable features. The white hair seems wrong, somehow—as though it does not belong there, as if it is merely a cover or a cheap imitation of something else.

A fake.

His gray hand itches to brush the hair away and straighten her posture, but he restrains himself. The two other Noah standing behind him would, in all likelihood, find it odd for him to do either of those things. Why would he, in his right mind, brush the exorcist's hair out of her eyes? She is the enemy, after all—not a person he is permitted to show such a sickeningly affectionate display too, even if he were not doing it as a semblance of personal emotion.

So he steps back to stand beside Wisely, allowing his lit cigarette to dangle out of his mouth as the smoke curls up into the air.

"Well, she's secured, right?" Road asks, her chin resting on one of her hands. "Can I play with her now? She's already in one of my dreams."

"No," both Tyki and Wisely say at the same time. The Noah of Pleasure shoots the scarf-wearing man a pointed glance which is not returned.

The Noah of Wisdom continues talking. "The Earl wants me to talk to her first. Bring her out of the dream, Road."

The girl _hmphs_ and crosses her arms, but does as Wisely says.

The three of them watch as the female exorcist begins to awaken, fidgeting in her stupor.

"Well, she doesn't look like she'll be much fun right now. I'm going to go find Lord Millennium and Lero."

 _Clank_. Just as the large, bolted door slams shut with a booming noise, the white-haired girl jolts awake. Her silver eyes are at first small slits, but they widen in confusion as she observes the dark cell. They drift across the floor, not even taking notice of the two Noah standing concealed in the utter blackness in the center of the room.

Wisely snaps his fingers, and the bare light bulb overhead flickers on with a small buzzing noise.

Her orbs pop out as soon as she sees Tyki and Wisely, and they narrow again in fear and anger.

"It's a good thing you're awake," the scarf-wearing man admits. "I was getting tired of waiting for you to come around."

Tyki stays silent, wanting to appear impartial in the presence of one of his brethren. He doesn't quite trust himself to speak to her without possibly relaying something to Wisely that pertains to their….relationship of sorts.

So he says nothing.

When the white-haired girl speaks, her eyes stay glued to Tyki's feet; he narrows his eyes, knowing that it is because she is keeping a watchful eye on him. Her voice is a whisper. "Where am I now? Still in the Ark, I'm guessing."

Wisely shrugs in response. "The Earl figured that this room was…better suited to your status as a prisoner. He seems to be pretty angry with you." The answer to her question is obvious, though not addressed in so many words.

Allen nods her head in understanding. "So, would you care to elaborate on why I'm here? Tyki already told me that the Earl wants to see me, but not why or when. Why aren't I dead? What do you Noah and the Earl want with me?"

"You seem like the kind of person who both cares and talks a lot," Wisely comments. "That's helpful, but not necessary. You'll do what we say regardless of whether you want to or not, and no matter what you say."

Silver eyes narrow dangerously; in response, Tyki's skin burns hot in appreciation, a tiny smirk painting his lips.

Her defiance is so very alluring.

"And why is that?" she demands of Wisely.

The other Noah crosses his arms, looking utterly bored with the whole situation. "You are going to help us, Allen Walker. You will tell us everything you know about the Black Order and its members—especially the other exorcists. Tyki and I have been tasked with getting you to cooperate. Well, mainly me. Tyki is here to make sure that you don't die or try to kill yourself."

Allen gives a short, dry laugh, but it is devoid of any real warmth or humor. Nonetheless, it makes Tyki's insides shiver. "You sound confident, but you won't succeed."

"Why?"

She raises her eyes from the spot where they are glued on the ground, and a scorching flame courses through Tyki's body at the familiar silver fire he sees gleaming in their depths. They are alight once again, the iridescent coloring reflecting the pride, the hubris, and the pure unbridled optimism swirling in the girl's body. It's just like the time in the forest when he had threatened to tear out her heart.

He remembers with a pang that he hadn't been able to go through with it.

"Because," she begins, "I'll never tell you anything. The Order is my home, and the members are my family. I won't betray them. I refuse to tell you anything about them or let you hurt them again." She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. "You'll have to kill me."

Tyki shoots a sideways glance at the Noah of Wisdom, whose primarily unenthused expression is, as usual, anything but impressed. In fact—unsurprisingly, from Tyki's point of view—he appears downright bored.

His voice is just as uncaring. "You seem to have forgotten something," he states matter-of-factly.

"What?" Allen's voice is confused and paranoid; Tyki cannot blame her.

His golden orbs twitch slightly with a sudden thought. What is he getting at?

"There are many ways of getting information out of someone," the younger Noah continues. "There is physical torture, mental torture—both of which are almost always more than enough to do the trick. It doesn't take much to break a person, as long as you're hitting them in the right places. However, I realized at a certain point that those methods are messy and time-consuming, as well as prone to error—a person may know more than they are consciously aware of. Memories are also subject to human errors in recollection. But I am not."

The female exorcist's eyes are still with rapt attention at Wisely's words, as well as befuddlement.

The Noah of Wisdom continues. " I will learn what you know regardless of your silence."

Then, Tyki sense a sudden surge in the energy around Wisely's body—a familiar surge that he has felt many times before.

_Is he going to….?_

He doesn't get to finish his thought.

"W-what are you talking about?" Allen even sounds unnerved by the Noah's aloof demeanor and sinister words. "Who are you—"

Her pretty mouth freezes around the words, and her eyes grow as large and deep as two moons. The silver orbs roll up into the back of her head, and from her throat spills a choked, garbled sound too warped, in Tyki's opinion, to be called a scream. It sounds more like a horrid wail, and it sends shivers down his spine—both good ones and bad. The Noah watches, shocked and transfixed, as her hands twist into claws and her wrists strain against her shackles in earnest.

The strange, horrifying picture lasts for barely three seconds before the girl goes limp, slumping against the wall once again. Her chest rises and falls rapidly with the aftermath of her strenuous writhing. Allen's pretty face is once again shrouded by white, and her breath rattles in her diaphragm, imitating the sounds of jangling chains. There is miniscule twitching in her limbs and fingers, and Tyki automatically knows that the level of pain she has just experienced has shot her already frayed nerves to hell. He does nothing, but inside, he is being torn apart.

Why? How is it possible for him to feel both elation and anger? He is excited, but he is simultaneously suppressing a deadly urge to pounce on the Noah beside him—a member of his family. If Wisely takes notice of Tyki's thoughts, he gives no indication of it.

No one says a word for a few moments, and Allen does not move. Tyki nearly winces, appalled yet again by the awesome and terrifying power of Wisely's mind manipulation techniques. Road's psychological and emotional torment goes far enough. Her dreams are one thing—but Wisely…he can make people feel things that seem real. He can make them feel so much pain while they are awake.

Controlling and manipulating people's minds and sensations…that is one of the powers of the Noah of Wisdom.

While the white-haired exorcist is still working on regaining control of her ragged breath and limbs, Wisely speaks.

"I'm Wisely, the Noah of Wisdom," he informs her apathetically, turning and sauntering slowly towards the door. His posture reeks of disinterest, despite the fact that he had just mentally tortured the young girl—though Tyki supposes he himself is no different. "I'll be back later—Tyki, would you mind watching her? Just make sure she doesn't try anything stupid."

As soon as the door clicks shut, the Noah of Pleasure's eyes find themselves roaming back to his exorcist. She doesn't move an inch, not even after Wisely's footsteps are no longer decipherable. He wonders idly why. Had he caused her that much pain? Surely she has experienced worse in her time as an exorcist—speaking of which, had the pain _he_ caused her measured up to Wisely's?

His eyes narrow; perhaps not. Still, only _he_ should be the one she dreads and hates—not Wisely.

 _But wait_ , the human part of him coos, _I thought you wanted her to want you? What about that dream you had? How can you have it both ways?_

He scoffs at himself; of course he doesn't want her to want him. His dream had been just that: a dream, a fluke. A perverse, sick fantasy that will never happen. At no point in time will Allen Walker ever desire him; he had ensured that that would never occur. People want—no, dream, he corrects himself—all sorts of things that they can't have. Although he is a Noah, he still retains some semblance of humanity—he had seen to that, and is willing to admit it. That doesn't mean he craves her affection—merely her docility and feverish hate.

And he senses that she is more than compelled, if not willing, to give him that.

He approaches her crumpled form slowly, eyeing her as though she is a loaded bomb waiting to go off. Her breath has died down, becoming softer, but she stays silent and still. Tyki even ponders if she has fallen asleep. He kneels beside her, staring at the concealing curtain of her hair and the steady rise and fall of her chest. Hesitantly, he reaches up and brushes the back of his hand against her cheek, beneath her white locks.

Instantly, he knows she is awake. The way she tenses under his touch and automatically pulls her cheek away from him, as though she had been burned, are sure signs of it. She pulls back, angling her body so that she is facing him, stretched as far away as she could possibly get. His hand stays hovering in the now-empty air, held out to her like a beacon—though really, it is just a promise of hurt. He knows that she knows that she will be burned if she is grazed by it.

Yet, her reaction still angers him…and elicits something else, too.

He opens his mouth to tease her, perhaps berate her for flinching—but then, he feels something wet drip onto his hand. He stares, transfixed by the drop of blood that dots his skin and creates a trail across his knuckles.

_Blood? From where?_

He glances up, only to see a longer trail of the red wine rolling slowly down the arms of the young woman and dripping from her wrist.

 _She must have pulled too hard on her restraints. Stupid girl_ , he thinks. He sighs in aggravation and reaches up to fiddle with the cuff. She says nothing, merely gives a small sigh as if she is relieved that his attention has shifted elsewhere.

Tyki frowns at the wound. It looks as though she is only bleeding from her human wrist; her anti-Akuma weapon is unharmed, for the most part. The dark matter hadn't yet managed to cut through it—though it had done a stellar job of restraining it for the time being. Unfortunately, it had also done damage to her fragile human wrist.

So, with a flick of his own dark matter, he severs the cuff on her right wrist. Her hand flops immediately into her lap, her fingers curling as if to protect themselves. He grabs her arm, raising it up to his scrutiny. There is a crimson line drawn in a circle around the skin like a bracelet. The cut leaks and oozes blood, creating an ever-growing pool on the floor. It is much deeper than it looks, apparently; as soon as it had been released from the pressure of the metal shackle, the blood flow had increased.

Tyki _tsks_. _This isn't good. I should stop the bleeding or she could end up passing out. But how?_

Suddenly, the blood and the pale skin around it look very delectable to the sadistic Noah. He leans down, and with a tentative lick, draws his tongue across Allen's wound.

The sensation explodes on his taste buds: it is a mixture of iron, salt, and a tang of something sweet and heady—her skin itself. He savors the unique flavor.

At the touch of his moist tongue, the woman above him gasps and attempts to jerk her arm out of the man's grasp. She succeeds, but he quickly growls and pulls it back, not allowing her to get away from him.

Not when he finally has her so close, all to himself.

He holds her wrist up for his golden eyes to snake over and scrutinize, holding it firmly so that she cannot pull away. His eyes trace the rivulets of blood, the delicate planes and angles of her flesh.

"Wisely did this," he says simply, a flash of anger going through him. He meets her orbs, so full of confusion and pain that it sends a spark of fire straight to his loins. "But I will reap the reward."

For the second time, he engulfs her warm blood into his mouth. He licks it up quickly and efficiently, enjoying every demented moment of this strange encounter. He notes, with some sick satisfaction, that he can feel her pulse against his lips, the essence and proof of her life flowing into him.

She is alive, and she is here with him, under his control, to dominate and use as he pleases. Finally— _finally_ , she is back with him.

But why does it feel as though it has been so long?

Even when all of the blood is gone, and the wound's flow has faded to a small trickle, his mouth still continues to roam. He roves over the skin of her forearm, up to the crook of her elbow, and elicits a shudder from her as he does so. This draws a small smile from him in its innocence. His tongue doesn't stop, however; it still moves, licking all the way up past her shoulder before laving open-mouthed kisses on her collarbone. She shudders again, squeezing her body flat against the wall in a poor attempt to escape him.

This won't do.

Before she has a chance to react, he hurriedly places her human hand back into the cuff, relocking it with ease. All the while, he does not pause in his activities. He continues to kiss her clavicle, and then he raises his mouth higher, higher, to clamp down on her petite neck. He remembers that this is where he enjoys kissing her the most, where she is the most sensitive and vulnerable—her jugular. He moves there, peppering hot, moist kisses against her throat.

"That was stupid, girl," he whispers huskily against her. "You shouldn't have hurt yourself like that. That's my job."

"I didn't," she says breathlessly. "It was that other Noah—Wisely." She lets out a yelp as he bites her then.

"I know," Tyki responds gruffly, increasing the urgency and harshness of his attentions. "But don't say his name, girl. It annoys me."

She hesitates before replying with a meek "Okay," though he can clearly see that it's forced. Hm. He will have to force her compliance in turn, then.

He knows all sorts of creative ways of bending women to his will, though. He is sure he can bend her, too.

His mouth drops lower, sliding again over her collarbone before coming to rest between the valley of her breasts, which are only barely concealed by her tank top. His veins burn hot, hotter than before—this time, he will see her body. He will not use his power, though. Tyki slowly slides her shirt up, drawing the material over her skin and leaving trails of fire in his wake.

Still, she tells him to stop, and he responds in kind:

"When has that ever worked before, girl?" He snickers, then watches as she grits her teeth and shuts her eyes. Is she keeping him out to spite him?

"Open your eyes."

She, as expected, ignores him. He fumes silently; he wants—no, _needs_ —to see her eyes.

Those enchantingly familiar silver eyes of hers.

So he resorts to a tactic that he knows will get her to obey him.

"If you don't open your eyes, girl, I'll go back to the Order right now and slaughter the rest of your friends. They're weakened right now, aren't they? It wouldn't be too difficult…" He's bluffing, of course. The Earl had already made it known that he wouldn't be happy if Tyki went behind his back again—but she doesn't know that.

Her eyes snap open immediately at his threat. She glares at him with all the wily attitude of an injured tiger—and all the physical intimidation of an injured housecat.

"That wasn't so hard, was it, girl?" he teases, loving the way it makes her eyes catch a spark of ferocity. Even so, she remains silent. He resumes his ministrations, and slides her tank top all the way up, past the underside of her breasts, past her collarbone…

For the first time, Tyki drinks in the image of her in all of her shirtless glory, her pert breasts pale and rosebud-pink around the peaks. Though they are small, they are still perfect, rosy and looking utterly soft to the touch. It is much greater than his fantasies—probably because this is actually real. She is more flawless than he had even imagined. He lets a smirk overtake his face as he sees a freckle grin up at him from the top of one of her mounds.

He is snapped out of his trance when she makes a noise of protest in her throat—and one of his hands clamps over her mouth to stifle it.

"We didn't finish what we started last time," he tells her gently, smiling at her flushed and fearful face. "Just relax, girl," he says.

And then, he leans down and kisses the top of her left breast. He lavishes special attention on them, driven nearly wild by their perfection—they fit perfectly into the palms of his hands, soft and yielding to his touch. Her peaks harden under his deft movements, and she breathes out slowly, shakily. He can feel her racing heartbeat under his face, his cheek, and it infects him with its pounding rhythm. Ever so carefully, he moves lower, drawing his lips and tongue over her sensitive stomach. Her abdomen shivers beneath him, and he hums into her skin. He dips his tongue into her navel, causing her to jerk under him and writhe in vain against her cuffs. He runs his hands across her sides as he savors her taste, then moves his hands lower…

He grips the hem of her leggings, dipping his thumbs beneath the stretchy material, and tentatively begins to peel the fabric from her skin.

But she still does not give in to him. If anything, she struggles harder—but that's okay. It suits him just fine. She's his, anyway. It shouldn't matter what she thinks or desires, only what he makes her feel.

And what she makes him feel in turn.

* * *

 

_Please stop._

Allen knows her dejected thoughts are pointless as the Noah begins to remove her leggings; this is why she says nothing out loud. Still, she doesn't think she can handle being used by him again…she is terrified, but also angry, courtesy of Neah.

The Noah inside of her is lurking just beneath the surface of her mind, but she can still feel his wrath and indignation at her situation. She thanks him silently, knowing that he is restraining himself. It is difficult on her end, too; she feels a sudden barbaric urge to rip Tyki's throat out with her teeth, but she pushes it down.

Now is not the time to lose control of her emotions, even if she has silent tears pooling at the corners of her eyes.

Yes. She can deal with this a second time. She can shove her pain and humiliation to the back of her mind and ignore it until a later date. She can ignore the way his lips are lingering over the prickling, sensitive skin of her belly, and the way his hands glide down her thighs as they drag her pants along with them. She can even ignore the way she registers her underwear being pulled down as well, and the tingle of cool air on her…

Oh, God, she can't ignore it. She can't ignore him.

Ever.

She braces herself for the inevitable action, the pain of her tormentor entering her for a second time…

But it doesn't come.

Rather, his hands are resting prone on her thighs. They begin to pull them in opposite directions, parting her legs slowly…

"No!" she exclaims, seeing the way his eyes travel to the region between her legs, golden irises narrow and ablaze with desire. She tries to clamp her thighs shut, but he is holding her too tightly—she cannot move to cover herself. Her hands are still imprisoned above her; she has no freedom of movement, no choice but to be laid out nude, on display for Tyki's eyes to devour.

And devour they do.

She watches him watching her, and wants to tear her eyes away—or, at the very least, close them—but she knows that he will make this ten times worse for her if she does.

So she lets him examine her naked form without a sound, stretched taut by chains and gray hands, legs splayed out as though she is some sort of show for him. She supposes she is—and that thought makes her want to vomit.

"Perfect," he whispers as he leans in close to brush his lips against her ear. She opens her mouth, about to respond, when suddenly his head is no longer next to hers. In a flash, his face moves below, hovering right next to her womanhood while his hands grip her thighs. She is already throbbing traitorously down there, relief nowhere to be found—

And then his mouth engulfs her.

She stiffens, her back arching as pleasure shoots through her. Her waiting lips are covered by his tongue, which flicks slowly and sensually over her slit. She releases a choked moan as shockwaves erupt all over her body. His lithe muscle laps at her folds, occasionally dipping inside and swirling around against her inner walls.

With every torturous lick, she arches and moans, clamping down on him. Her thighs tense up, her toes curl, and her hips roll of their own accord. Adrenaline cuts flaming paths across her skin. She squeezes her eyes shut, only hoping that it will be over soon.

Then, as soon as it had started, the sensation stops, and the feelings of horrifying elation begin to fade away, leaving her body heated and in want of something.

 _What?_ She opens her eyes and looks down, only to stare into Tyki's golden eyes. He looks up at her from where he is still perched between her legs, and she looks at him in turn, chest heaving with built-up pleasure and frustration—and fear.

He growls low in his throat—a warning sign.

"Look at me," he demands in a husky voice. "Keep looking at me, girl, or I'll make it worse."

Breathlessly, she nods—though she also feels something inside of her crack. She wonders if it's her pride, or her dignity; perhaps it's her self-respect? Either way, she can't bear to watch him defile her with his tongue.

But she knows she has no choice.

At her assent, he resumes his activities on her nether regions, feeling his tongue begin to swirl around and inside of her once again.

So good…so horrible, so _wrong_ …she can't figure out which. Her hands strain against her bindings, her legs stretch and try futilely to rub together and relieve some of the throbbing pressure between them, but Tyki doesn't give her an inch to move. And all the while, his golden eyes are locked on hers. A gleam of mischief shines in them, and all of a sudden, his tongue withdraws from inside her.

She releases a small moan in her throat, then chokes on a gasp as his moist muscle changes position. The tip of his tongue flicks over the bundle of skin above her entrance, and she nearly comes undone. The coil in the pit of her stomach begins to build up to ungodly proportions, and breathing suddenly becomes much more laborious. She gasps, her mouth falling open in response to an especially firm trick of his mouth, and he eagerly rolls his tongue in a fast little circle around her sensitive nub.

The room is much too hot now, ironically enough, and beads of sweat start to collect on her forehead and chest. She can feel the white hair sticking to her forehead and the back of her neck, as well as the muscles of her face contorting in what is both pleasure and pain.

The world around her starts to blur, until all she is focused on is golden eyes and curly dark hair and gray skin. She is being torn apart at the seams, the threads inside of her slowly tightening as if pulled by a firm hand; the ball of heat in her abdomen becomes hotter and denser until, with one last firm flick of his warm tongue, Allen comes apart completely.

Waves of ecstasy, heat so intense and a feeling so much more sweet than bitter—or is the opposite?—dominate everything for a few brief seconds. To the young woman, though, it seems like days. Her head is thrown back against the wall, and her face is angled upwards as her body is wracked with uncontrollable shaking.

The afterglow lasts a long time as his tongue milks her for all she's worth, for all she's able to give him. Her eyes slide closed at the feeling, and only when it starts to become physically painful for her over-sensitized nerves does he stop.

She lies there for a few moments, a quivering, gasping mess, as Tyki comes back up for air. She hears him licking his lips much like a cat.

"Look at me, girl." He is right in front of her, though she is still facing the ceiling rather than him. She shakes her head, holding back the tears her exhausted body is desperate to shed.

"I can't." _I can't look at you. If I do_ …She feels as though she is going to pass out at any moment.

"Open your eyes." This time, there's more force in his command, more warnings of danger.

Though it kills her to do so, she does as he says. He is looking at her with eyes aflame, thoroughly sated even though he has only brought her to completion.

Though she is feeling anything _but_ satisfied.

"Do you want to be sitting here naked when Wisely returns?" he asks, a hint of anger in his tone.

She shakes her head.

"Then you'll have to get dressed again."

He helps her put her clothes back on—actually, he does it for her, since she cannot move herself. Allen cannot tell if he's doing it because he enjoys touching her or because he does not trust her to do it herself. It's probably a bit of both, she reasons.

When he's done with her, he sits beside her slouched form for a few more minutes, simply observing her features as she stares off into space—into nothing. She does not want to think, or talk, or even stare at the blank, benign wall in front of her.

Right now, all she wants is to be left alone with her suffering—with her resolve.

She closes her eyes with the full intent of sleeping, trying to pay no mind to the man beside her who has shown no interest so far in leaving her be. What more does he want from her?

After a few minutes, Allen believes she has perfected the art of appearing asleep, and even begins to mercifully drift off. He shifts beside her then, and she figures he has finally gotten bored of her.

But instead of getting up and leaving the room, he leans even closer to her. He places his lips beside her ear, close enough to feel the warm breath fanning across her cheek. Before she even has time to panic, he does something she never would have expected—or wanted.

He plants a soft kiss on her cheek, and in a voice that is not his, he speaks.

"So beautiful. Even after all these years, it still haunts me."

With that, he exits the room with a resounding _clang_ , leaving the white-haired girl to wonder just what the Noah had been talking about.


	8. A Rising of Tension

"What?" Komui splutters at Reever, his gaze disbelieving. Had the Australian man just said that the Asian Branch had been attacked as well? "When did this happen?"

"Just yesterday, apparently. It was—"

"Come with me."

That is all the eccentric scientist tells Reever before he wires the hovering platform to take them back down. Immediately, the overworked scientists set off for Komui's office. Once there, the purple-haired man all but rips the headwear off of Reever and attaches it to his own ear.

"This is Komui Lee, Chief of the Black Order Headquarters. To whom am I speaking?" The Chinese man is almost yelling into the headset, but he can't bring himself to care; right now, he has more pressing issues on his mind.

The man on the other end of the speaker sounds nervous and strained—Komui can practically sense the bullets of sweat dripping off of him. Evidently, those at the Asian Branch were having an even worse day than Headquarters. At the very least, however, the man is competent enough to reply.

"Y-yes, sir. This is Yong Cha, of the Asian Branch's Science Division, currently acting as Branch Head—"

"Branch Head?" the purple-haired scientist interrupts him. "Where is Bak Chang?"

The man breathes raggedly and stutters a bit, nearly causing Komui's heart to go into a stressed overdrive before replying. "Bak-san is currently unconscious in the medical wing with all of our other injured members. Unfortunately, he suffered a broken arm and a severe concussion while attempting to stop some of the Akuma with a talisman."

Komui releases a shuddering breath. _At least Bak isn't dead—though, I can't say for sure that we're all in the clear yet. We need to have all of our members and leaders in working order, or everything will descend into chaos! Who knows when the Earl or the Noah will strike next?_ "Yong-san, please fill me in on the details of the attack you reported earlier."

"Yes, sir. The attack was coordinated and carried out in both the main hall and the largest science lab, Lab Three. There were two Noah present, one at each site, both female. One of the Noah, a tall woman with long dark hair, attacked the scientists who were studying the Ark—" The man's voice cuts off, being replaced with choked gasps and the grinding of teeth. Komui shudders, his insides turning quickly to ice.

_Is the death toll that large? How…how many people did we lose?_

Soon enough, the man resumes his speech, but with a significantly heavier tone of voice. "In total, she, with the assistance of several Level Twos and Level Threes, killed seventy-three scientists and finders."

"Seventy-three?" Komui echoes in stunned horror. "How could such a large number be killed? Why did they not evacuate sooner?"

"There's more to it, Chief. The other Noah, a young girl with spiky blue hair, blocked off the exits and destroyed Lab Three with the aid of several Akuma. That lab contained a handful of fifteen scientists and a great deal of our most advanced talisman equipment. Without them…" Yong's voice shakes brokenly again, but he tries to continue, "without them, we didn't stand a chance. Not that we had much of one, anyway, with no exorcists here."

Komui sighs brokenly, feeling both anger and guilt. He clenches his teeth, seething in the pain and frustration that comes with losing many of his fellow Order members. From beside him, Reever sends a look of mutual sadness and pity, as well as worldly exhaustion. The purple-haired man imagines that he looks much the same, as well. Still, he tries to swallow the lump that has formed in his throat so that he can respond. "Yong-san," he says with finality.

"Yes, Chief Komui?"

"What is the current status of the Asian Branch? Are there any developments besides Lab Three's destruction?"

The man stays silent for so long that Komui can already tell that he has no good news for him. Indeed, he is proven correct when Yong relays a piece of information that causes his whole world to tilt slightly on its axis.

"On top of murdering eighty-eight of our own, the Noah also managed to retrieve the Ark. I believe that was their goal from the beginning—they just killed all of those people for no reason…" He pauses as he clears his throat. "Our guardian deity has also sustained heavy damage. She is currently unconscious. This leaves us in a very bad position regarding future attacks; we can only hope that none arrive so soon."

The cogs and gears begin to turn in Komui's brain, connecting the information that he had just been told and establishing the chronological order of events. The Earl had taken the Ark back just before coming to take Allen…does that mean that she's…? "We'll have to do much better than that, Yong-san. Set up a perimeter with the remaining talismans and finders for extra security. Make sure that no post is left unguarded. For now, it looks as though the Earl has gotten what he wants, but we have to remain prepared as best we can."

"Y-yes, Chief! I'll give the orders right away. Um…" He pauses, hesitating over his next words. "How are things going over there? Is everything okay?"

Komui sighs, feeling a headache begin to come on. Not because of Yong's words, per se, but because of the reminder of what had happened. "We have also been attacked, Yong-san. The Noah used the Ark they retook to transport here and try to kidnap Allen Walker." His eyes slide closed as he relays the situation. "They succeeded."

On the other end of the headset, Yong gasps. "Walker-san? They got Walker-san? But…but that isn't possible! She's a great exorcist!"

Komui flinches at his desperate tone. "She had already been weakened by a previous mishap in another battle, so that made it the perfect opportunity for the Earl to strike. At the very least, I now have some sort of idea where Allen has been taken."

"Sir?"

"Right before the Ark arrived here, your Branch was attacked in Asia. They reclaimed the Ark and then proceeded to kidnap Allen Walker. Now where do you think the most likely place to hide her would be?"

"I don't know, Chief. Do you mean in general?"

Komui sighs once again. "Yes, Yong-san."

"Well, then I would keep her somewhere that would be difficult for the enemy to get to—Chief!" The man's gasp of realization causes Komui's eyes to narrow ever so slightly.

"Have you figured it out, Yong-san?" There is no reply; the scientist decides to take that as a yes. "Allen Walker is, in all likelihood, being kept on Noah's Ark."

Wonderful. He believes that he has found the most likely place for Allen to be. The only problem, the purple-haired man realizes, is that on top of not having adequate manpower available at the moment, he also has no idea how to get there.

* * *

Even through the pain and the incomprehensible burning in his heart, Kanda can still tell that he is dreaming. It's strange that this is so—for one thing, the Japanese man has not dreamed in what seems like forever, and whenever he had they had just been short clips—snippets of his past life. Now, though, he is fully aware that he is dreaming. Of course, "dream" is merely an umbrella term; a more appropriate definition of this would be "nightmare."

 _No,_ he thinks. _This isn't a nightmare_. Nightmares project the impossible, the rightly horrifying subconscious fears and beliefs that are at the core of one's mind. They are annoying, irrational, and, to Kanda, perfectly harmless. He hadn't experienced them as other children had. He had seemed to pass right over that phase as if it were nothing. _He's_ not afraid.

So, he knows that what he is seeing now is not a nightmare.

It's so much worse.

It's the Moyashi.

He is on the outside looking in of a large, sparse room. Yet, he can see her, with her white locks hanging ragged and messy around her face. Her face—her pale cheeks devoid of beauty marks or freckles, her silver eyes—is much clearer to him than usual, more full of…something. She lies before him, robed as normal as ever in her exorcist coat, while the room around her fades blurrily into oblivion. It's a disturbingly compelling image.

 _This? A nightmare?_ Kanda nearly scoffs; nightmares can't compare to this—this is just a tease, a morose reminder of what had happened and what he had failed to protect.

But it sure as hell isn't a dream.

He wants to call out to her, to call her name out to where she lies on the floor. To ask her why the hell she hadn't just run away when he had told her to. To ask her why she is so suicidally loyal to those she cares about—even him. As far as he can tell, he has never once been purposely kind to her or done her any favors—aside from the obvious task of trying to save her life. In his opinion, that doesn't count as a favor, though. In fact, he would even argue that he's been remarkably unpleasant to her as part of his payback for her annoying temperament. (It serves her right, but still.)

He wants to say all of these things, and opens his mouth to do so—but then he stops.

Another figure enters the picture his mind has created, a man dressed impeccably in a white shirt and dress pants. It's _him_ —that curly-haired Noah. Tyki-something. Kanda growls low in his throat—what the hell is _he_ doing here? This is the man who had kidnapped the Moyashi; why would he be dreaming about him?

The Noah stalks towards the girl lying motionless on the ground, his sadistic grin pulling back the skin of his cheeks for Kanda to see. He's going to do something—he's going to kill her, Kanda's sure of it.

And just like before, the white-haired girl makes no move to stop him—only this time, her eyes are wide open.

" _Hey!"_ the blue-haired man thunders, reaching out with a hand to swipe at the other man. Nothing happens; his hand refuses to obey his mind's command.

And so, the samurai is forced to watch, once again helpless, as the gray-skinned man kneels beside the young woman and begins to peel off her coat…

" _Hey!"_ he booms again, but just as before, his words have no effect. With a horrified jolt, he recalls the Noah's earlier promise to him.

For a second time, Kanda hears the words, playing them in the echoing background of his mind.

_I'm going to make her suffer._

The curly-haired man rips her coat off violently, scattering silver buttons everywhere and causing lighthearted tinkling sounds to reverberate around in Kanda's ears. They are carried away by the room, by the desperate aura of pleading that is being drawn from Allen's lips.

She screams, and Kanda cannot cover his ears to muffle the sound. "Stop! _Please_! Don't do this!" The stark terror in her voice alone causes the samurai's insides to squirm, and his hands itch to be around Tyki's throat.

_I'll pull her apart and make her scream and writhe just so I can watch her be destroyed._

Is this it? Are Tyki's words causing Kanda to create his fantasy?

Or is this real?

The blue-haired man's teeth are chattering in barely-subdued rage as he watches the Noah tear off all of the Moyashi's clothes. All the while, she is screaming and crying, kicking and squirming against her captor, but all to no avail.

The samurai has never felt so full of wrath, so helpless, so completely incapable of thinking about anything beyond what is happening right in front of him—that the woman who has been nothing but the bane of his existence is now being victimized in the most brutal of ways. He had known what some women faced in times of war, but he has never seen it himself. He wants to look away, but the sheer tragedy of it mesmerizes him in a horrible way. He doesn't even avert his eyes when she is completely naked, not that he is paying attention to that at the moment.

She is writhing underneath the Noah as he looks down at her in smug glee. Kanda's eyes stay drawn to her face, and this is what he believes is the worst part of all of this. Her expression: her eyes are so full of terror and abject horror at her situation that the samurai is finding it suddenly hard to breathe.

And then, the Noah sinks himself into her.

Allen's hoarse scream grates on Kanda's ears, and he wants nothing more than to look away—except, perhaps, to pound the Noah's face in. He wants to close his eyes and pretend that he cannot see her being violated, or recall the way her tears stain her flushed cheeks.

But he finds he cannot, and this makes him want to tear his eyes out of his head.

_I bet she'll call for you._

"Kanda."

His supposedly nonexistent heart constricts in his chest at the sound of his name being called so brokenly. When he focuses back in on her, her silver orbs find his, shining with sadness and unshed tears as the Noah thrusts into her body once again. In dawning horror, he watches as her human hand reaches out to him, looking so much like she had right before Tyki had taken her.

Her voice is but a wheeze. "Kanda, help me."

_And when she does, I'll take her. I'll take her hard, until all she knows is my name, my voice, my body._

The torture continues until Kanda feels as though he is merely trapped in an endless loop, being forced to play observer to one of his worst imaginings. His heart beats fast with unrestrained wrath, until finally, with an especially hard thrust, she screams anew, her eyes rolling back into her head as her hands clench at nothing but air. Her nails draw scarlet blood from her palms.

" _Stop_!" he booms, unable to handle doing nothing but watch the scene before him anymore. "Stop it, you goddamn bastard!"

The reply of laughter causes his insides to boil, and he glares harder at Tyki as the Noah's golden eyes meet his own. He is snickering as though Kanda's demand is funny, and he does not let up in his harsh movements; if anything, he starts to move even harder and faster as he nears his end. The blue-haired swordsman feels as though he is going to vomit, a physical sign of weakness that he doesn't partake in much. This image, however, is enough to elicit a nauseous response. Of course, he's already been weakened anyway, so he doesn't really care at this point.

"What's wrong, Mr. Kitchen Knife?" the Noah of Pleasure asks as his movements continue. "Does this bother you?"

Both teeth and fists clench in rage.

"Well, too bad," Tyki continues. "It looks as though you were too late to save her, weren't you? A shame."

Blood trickles down Kanda's chin, _drip-drip-dripping_ onto the blurry floor by his feet. His lip now has a hole in it where his teeth previously were.

"She's mine now."

_I'll make her wish she were dead._

When Kanda's dark eyes once again meet Allen's, she no longer looks like the same Moyashi that he is used to, the one who always meets his challenges head on and even bites back. Now, her silver eyes are gray and empty, as hollow as a well. Dead. Her mouth hangs open, gaping wide as though she is surprised to be there. She's staring at him, but also through him, as though he is merely a fixture on the wall. He almost expects her to snap out of it and call him "Bakanda" as she usually does, but this does not happen. Nothing, not even a sound, escapes her lips—not a scream, not a breath, not even his name.

 _Now_ , he thinks idly, this _is a nightmare_.

* * *

He comes to in a sudden way, with a hand grabbing his shoulder and an accompanying voice calling his name softly. Instinctively, he lashes out at the source, his fist skimming over a soft surface. A surprised, feminine gasp fills his ears, as well as a shout of outrage.

His dark eyes shoot open, wild and paranoid of his surroundings. That dream (nightmare) must have gotten to him.

However, he already knows that he has fucked up before he even looks at the green-haired girl standing beside his bed. Her hands are poised in front of her like a shield, and just as Kanda registers the fact that she has finally woken up (at least that is one less thing to worry about), a very angry redhead's voice fills the room.

"Hey, Yuu! What's your problem?! You almost punched Lenalee!"

Kanda scoffs at the future Bookman, almost wishing that the boy had stayed unconscious for just a little while longer. He softens his gaze (though still keeps a mild glare) as he looks back at his childhood friend.

The green-haired girl is staring at him sheepishly, a half-surprised, half-scared look on her round face. She smiles back at him kindly.

"I don't know why you were tied up, Kanda, but I guess that it's probably because they weren't letting you leave, as usual. I untied you." This is when Kanda finally takes notice of the fact that he can freely move his limbs; the hand and ankle cuffs are lying uselessly on his bed. He grunts in acknowledgement.

The girl smiles back at him. "I'm so glad you're alright, Kanda. Lavi and I were so worried."

"Speak for yourself, Lena," the redhead calls out from his bed.

The Chinese girl ignores her currently hotheaded boyfriend. She parts her lips to say something else, but before she can say a thing, Kanda has already brushed past her. He reaches into the dresser at the foot of his cot and pulls out his exorcist coat, which has been folded neatly by one of the Nurse's aides. At least _they_ know how to do their job correctly.

Unlike him, apparently.

A baffled Lenalee hovers behind him as he whisks around the room in search of his anti-Akuma weapon.

"Kanda!" she objects as he flies by her. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

She rolls her eyes. "I can _see_ that! Where are you going? And where is Allen-chan? I didn't see her here when I woke up, and—"

"She's gone," Kanda manages to bite out harshly, not pausing in his rapid movements; he can already tell that he's been completely healed by the seal on his chest. Once again, his mark had saved him. It's probably the only thing he has to be thankful for at this moment, but he doesn't really care.

Because now, he has a new mission. Self-imposed it may be, but he knows that he has no other choice. He has to go find the Moyashi.

He sees Lenalee and Lavi's eyes bug out as he resumes his frantic search for Mugen; Komui never leaves his weapon far away from him. The scientist knows how possessive the samurai gets about the katana.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" the redhead interjects, hands flailing wildly as he sits up in bed. "Time out! What do you mean she's gone, Yuu?"

Kanda growls in irritation as he overturns one of the chairs in his haste. "I mean that the Noah who attacked us knocked her unconscious and took her with him."

The eyes of the two other exorcists in the room widen even more at Kanda's declaration. Turning away from their stunned expressions, the samurai continues to blindly search for his katana.

Lenalee, for her part, manages to choke out a word before the future Bookman. "W-what? Allen-chan…was kidnapped by the Noah?" Kanda ignores the girl as her eyes fill with both disbelief and tears, not feeling comfortable with trying to reassure her.

"No way…" Lavi trails off, his lone green eye becoming hardened.

Just as Kanda is about to seriously consider tearing apart the entire medical wing to find Mugen, Lenalee's broken voice reaches his ears.

"We have to go find her."

The blue-haired man turns around slowly, and finds himself none too surprised by the solid determination he sees in the young woman's purple eyes. Her brows are furrowed, looking almost angry when coupled with the firm set of her jaw and solid gaze. It's almost enough to make him raise an eyebrow in appreciation for her guts.

"Lenalee…" The redhead's soft voice reaches them, and Kanda can read into his tone. Unlike Lenalee, he isn't feeling quite as optimistic—after all, he hadn't been awake to hear what the samurai had said earlier about Allen's likeliness of being alive. Knowing him, he must be thinking the worst.

The thought makes anger erupt in his veins, but he decides to smother it. "I know that," he snaps at the green-haired girl. "What the hell do you think I'm doing?"

Lenalee smiles sadly, about to respond when Kanda once again cuts her off.

"But you're not coming with me."

The girl gapes for a moment before exploding. " _What_? Kanda, I—"

"Listen, Lenalee!" he warns, a dangerous lilt to his voice. "You don't have a weapon right now, and both you and the usagi are still injured. At your most useful you'd still both be hindrances."

The green-haired girl seems to shrink back into herself as reality grabs ahold of her. "But—"

"Yuu's right, Lena," the redhead says softly, getting out of bed with some effort. He comes over to stand behind her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You and I both need to get our strength back. Once Hevlaska's finished with your boots and these bandages come off of my head, we'll go after Allen too." He flashes a winning grin at her, though Kanda can see right through the deceptive twinkle in his eye.

"Shut up, baka usagi," Kanda says in frustration. The nerve of that idiot—he's acting like he already thinks the Moyashi's dead.

"What'd I say?" the future Bookman asks quizzically as Lenalee smiles gently at him.

At that moment, Komui comes breezing into the room. This is the first time, Kanda realizes, that he has actually _wanted_ to see the idiot scientist.

" _You!"_ he snaps irritably, making a grab for him. Komui manages to dodge behind Reever just as the other man trails in after him.

"Nii-san!" Lenalee gasps, relief palpable in her voice.

" _Lenalee_ ~!" the purple-haired man exclaims dramatically, momentarily forgetting the fact that Kanda is casting a murderous aura in his direction. He rushes forward to embrace his sister, ignoring the samurai's presence entirely.

He can practically feel the steam coming out of his ears. "Komui, where the hell is Mugen?!" He all but screams his question, one of his brows twitching in frustration. The Chief of Headquarters turns to him, giving him a suspicious once-over.

"I can only assume that Lenalee let you out," he sighs, rubbing his temple gently. "Oh, well. I suppose I would have to tell you sooner or later. I hid Mugen, Kanda."

"You _what?"_

"It was for the best. Seeing as the last time you were conscious you attempted to run out of the medical ward, I figured that—"

The Chinese man doesn't get to finish his sentence. Before he is done talking, the samurai lunges for the scientist, who promptly lets out a melodramatic screech before hiding behind his sister.

Lenalee holds her arms out in an attempt to shield her older brother from Kanda's blows. "Hey!" she yells, trying to keep her friend from murdering her only kin. "Stop acting so childish, Kanda! Komui was only trying to keep you from doing something rash, I'm sure!"

At her insistent blocks, he stops his pummeling. He decides to halt in his pursuit of the older man, his heart rate and breathing fit to cause him to go into cardiac arrest. He glares daggers at the girl in front of him, who flinches mildly at his expression.

He almost spits at her when he speaks. "You call trying to go after the Moyashi something _rash_? _I_ was the only one fighting while you and the baka usagi were getting knocked unconscious!"

Lenalee looks thoroughly chastised, her gaze instantly dropping to the linoleum floor.

"Hey! Back off, Yuu!" Lavi interjects, thrusting his body in between the samurai and his secret girlfriend. He shoots a piercing glare at Kanda, but it goes ignored by the angry man.

"It had to be done, Kanda," Komui offers, looking much more composed as he readjusts his glasses and beret. "Allen was already gone by the time you woke up, and you were terribly injured still. You were almost near death. We had no choice but to restrain you, since you wouldn't listen to reason."

The angry man snorts derisively, but it is devoid of any real humor. "What crap. As you can see, I'm fine now. I can't die. So tell me where Mugen is."

Komui puffs out his chest in what looks to be an attempt to appear unafraid. Even so, the samurai can still sense the subdued nervousness in his eyes. "On one condition. Can you promise to stay here and not try to run out on us again if I do?"

Komui's proposition earns nothing but a mocking scoff and a roll of Kanda's dark eyes. "No, but I will promise that I _might_ not slice you in half if you give Mugen back to me."

The Chief sighs in exasperation. "Please just _listen_ to me for once, Kanda."

Dark eyebrows rise. This is the first time that Komui has shown some real concern and patience for him; usually he simply writes off Kanda's behavior and tries his best to accommodate him, hence why he gets hurt more often than most exorcists—because more often than not, he dives headfirst into dangerous situations.

Komui's voice gives away the true strain on his emotions. "I've just received word of an attack on the Asian Branch by two other Noah. They have retaken the Ark. Based upon the timing of the two attacks and what you told me earlier of the Noah's mission, it's safe to say that Allen is being kept on the Ark as a prisoner." He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before imparting the next piece of information. "This means, of course, that we now have no way of getting to her, as far as we know. Our only connection to the world of the Noah has been taken away."

The news hits the samurai like a ton of bricks. No, wait—in actuality, it's akin to something far heavier than that, because the knowledge that Allen is being kept somewhere so far away, beyond the imposed human boundaries of space and time, is enough to make the breath leave Kanda's lungs like the air of a popped balloon. Noah's Ark, of all the places to keep her? It's smart—the smartest move the Earl can make in this situation, he'll give him that.

But _of course_! Of course she had to be held captive in most likely the one place in existence where he could not get to—easily, that is. "Easily" because Kanda Yuu is not going to give up. It's not in his nature to do so; he may be callous and even downright mean on occasion (or most of the time), but if there's one thing he always does right, it's carry out his missions.

And he had already decided on his next one: he is going to bring back Allen Walker— _the Moyashi_ , he quickly corrects himself. He had let her get taken by the Noah, so it's his responsibility to do so. The mere fact that she is, in all likelihood, on the Ark with the Earl and his lackeys isn't enough to stop him or even cause a hiccup in his resolve. It may slow him down, but it certainly won't stop him.

"As far as you know," he repeats Komui's earlier phrase quietly, his face set in grim determination.

"Pardon?" the aforementioned man asks, puzzled by Kanda's sudden change in demeanor.

"You just said that we can't get to her as far as you know. That just means you have to find a way."

The scientist smiles cheekily back at him, giving a brief nod. "Why, of course! We'll get our best scientists on the job! We'll find a way to get Allen back in no time at all!"

Of course, Komui's ridiculously (and falsely) upbeat tone is enough to elicit a roll of the eyes, but Kanda decides not to push the matter. After all, he senses that the purple-haired man is doing his best to appease him under the circumstances. Even if he really doesn't mean it—not that Kanda doubts the man's single-minded determination—there is nothing the samurai stands to gain by continuing to be obstinate on this issue. So instead, he inclines his head towards the other man, for now taking his word.

Yet, even though he knows, logically, that there's nothing he can do at this point in time, that doesn't mean he's just going to wait patiently for things to sort themselves out. How can he? At this very moment, the Moyashi could be being tortured—or worse, as he is reminded by his latest "dream" and Tyki's earlier promise to destroy her.

Tyki…Kanda unconsciously clenches his fists, disgust and blind hatred brewing against the already-delicate walls of his veins and arteries. That Noah bastard…when Kanda gets his hands on him—or, more preferably, his katana—he's going to wish that he were dead. No, not that—he's going to wish that he had never been born at all. If he lays a single gray finger on the Moyashi…No one gets to beat up on her but _him._

_You love her, don't you?_

He stops for a second, reflecting on the Noah's question, then shakes his head. Tyki's statement is obviously implausible, but he still finds the thought of one of his comrades being victimized in such a way infuriating. That's all it is.

So he'll be damned if he's going to wait for another minute to start figuring out a course of action.

After all, Kanda Yuu had never been a patient man.

* * *

As the large metal door clicks shut behind him, cutting off his view of the white-haired girl, Tyki is suddenly overcome by confusion. Though he is clearly aware of what has just transpired within the confines of Allen's prison, his mind only seems to reflect on the situation objectively now that he has left her presence.

He remembers what he had said and done before he had left the white-haired exorcist with some concern—he had kissed her cheek, for God's sake! There's no way that he could or should be expressing any sort of benign affection for her. It had felt almost as if he had not been the one moving in that moment, as if he had been more like a spectator. It's unnerving.

And what he had said to her…had those really been his words? They don't make any sense; he had only met Allen Walker fairly recently. They hadn't even known each other for a year! Not only that, but it had felt as if the words were coming from someone else's mouth, almost as if it had been Joyd speaking, rather than him.

But that's even more unlikely. Joyd is, as far as Tyki can tell, sadistic and overwhelmingly selfish. Treating someone, especially a prisoner and previous victim, with any sort of kind gesture must surely be beneath the Noah. Perhaps it's some sort of mind game that he's playing with her? Yes…that must be it.

He shakes his head, probing the edges of his mind just to be absolutely certain that Joyd had not and would not try to take over his body again—or at least anytime soon. He sighs when he realizes that the Noah is absent—for now. He can breathe easily for a while.

And at the moment, what he really wants is a shower.

He makes to walk away, but hesitates inexplicably, his hand still resting on the doorknob. He wants to leave, but at the same time, he wants to stay—to go back inside and sit with the new object of his obsession for a little while longer. Evidently, simply watching her as he brings her to completion is not enough to satiate his thirst for her. His arousal has gone down, but he still…

He remembers how unwittingly gorgeous she had looked right before she had climaxed, how her white hair had been plastered to her delicate skin. How she had moaned in both ecstasy and pain as her orgasm washed over her, her toes curling against his sides as he held her still. How the taste of her, musky and familiar, had filled him, almost causing him to let out a throaty moan of his own. He had nearly given in, about ready to tear off his own clothes and bury himself inside of her again. She had been so perfect, in that moment. How he'd always wanted to see her…

All because of _him._ He had thought that that is all he wants—to unhinge her and watch as he devours her—but now he isn't so sure.

Stay or leave? Linger or go? He can't make up his mind.

He is still trying to when suddenly, he sees a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. He stiffens, his golden eyes slowly drawing up to the culprit.

There, standing beside a statuesque pillar, is none other than his adopted niece, Road. She is standing tall and straight, not hunched over or leaning on one foot as per usual. Her hands are clasped behind her back. She had obviously been there for a few minutes, at least. She had already been watching him by the time he looks up and acknowledges her presence. For perhaps the first time since Tyki has known her, her countenance is radiating complete seriousness, though her eyes still reveal a hint of sly cunning.

He isn't sure how long the two of them stand there, but he idly wonders when she is going to say something, or at least tease him for spending too much time with her favorite exorcist.

But she doesn't say anything—which is quite unlike her—and neither does he. She merely shuffles her feet a bit before turning and sauntering away. As her shoes click lightly on the floor, Tyki cannot help but feel a knot of apprehension form deep in his stomach.

It looks as though he has one more problem to deal with.


	9. A Love of Pain

The same brick gray wall, with increasingly obvious cracks in the cement. The same dark stains, eating away at the cell's structure. The same subtle odor, that only becomes fouler as the hours pass by her in solitude. Sleep has become evasive, as has trying to count the seconds as they slowly tick by. Even with the room's wide space and vast emptiness, the walls close in more and more as boredom takes over. Misery is fine without company, evidently.

Indeed, the next day brings no changes for Allen. She is still chained in the same manner, her wrists stuck high above her head. For the first few hours since she had awoken, her wrists had been throbbing painfully as a consequence of her unnatural position. The cut on her wrist had ached as well, though Tyki had managed to stop the bleeding before it had become excessive.

It makes her feel physically ill to think that she owes the Noah of Pleasure anything, especially her gratitude. Keeping her from bleeding out isn't an act of altruism or of caring; this she knows. What he is really doing is prolonging her torment for his own sick desires, and for the Earl's. He is twisted and sick, perverse and wicked...

Allowing her to die would be better, more preferable to sitting alone in a dank dark cell while waiting to be tortured and interrogated so that the rest of her family may be killed. But she knows that Tyki Mikk is not merciful—far from it.

Her wrists have long gone numb, as have her sore, swollen eyes.

She sighs aloud as she leans back against the grimy wall. The young woman's stomach begins to growl something fierce, shudders and hungry demands tearing through her abdomen like an angry beast.

 _That's right_ , she thinks with a shallow groan, _I haven't eaten anything since I left the Asian Branch. I'm starving…_

It's true. In between her last two bouts of unconsciousness, the one in Edo and the one at Headquarters, Allen had found no time whatsoever to eat. Her stomach is going to start eating itself soon, if it hasn't already done so. It sure feels like it has.

" **You're not starving** ," Neah says from within her. " **Try to keep it together, Allen. They're only trying to break you."** His calm voice is in strict contrast with the pure fury Allen can sense bubbling below the Noah's surface. He had been seething nonstop ever since Tyki had last left her, furious at his vile actions. This had surprised her at first, but then she had realized that he probably just didn't want the other Noah to ruin his vessel.

Despite the words of encouragement, which Allen logically knows are true, she cannot bear to listen to him right now. She groans pathetically into the empty air, too low in energy to bother forming either words or coherent thoughts. At this point, even regular chains would be enough to bind her. Her muscles feel weak, her eyelids heavy and bloated. Even a piece of bread would be nice. At least it would be enough to tide her over for the time being—or perhaps for a few minutes.

_Creeeak!_

Allen's head snaps up, coming to attention as the door slides open. In burst two people—two teenagers who appear to be around her age, but whom she has never had the "pleasure" of meeting.

They are both dressed in gothic clothing, their gray chests on display for Allen to see. Well, at least she knows that they're both male; one of them has spiky black hair, while the other is sporting long golden locks. They are both wearing heavy makeup around their eyes, while the blonde one's mouth flashes what appears to be string zig-zagging across his lips. Overall, the image is disturbing. They both brandish pistols in their hands, made of the shiniest gold.

 _Two more members of the Noah family have awakened and joined the Earl? How many does that make now?_ As the white-haired girl attempts to count up in her head, both of the new arrivals jump in front of her, completely obscuring her line of vision.

"Yo!" one of them exclaims. His spiky dark hair contrasts greatly with his companion's, though his heavily made-up eyes hold the same amount of mischief. "You're Cross Marian's apprentice, ne?"

"Hee hee!" the blonde one chimes in loudly. "We know who you are, hee hee!"

She only meets their dual gaze for a millisecond before returning her eyes to the floor. "Is that so?" she whispers, slouching against the stone wall once again.

"Yeah!" the darker one exclaims, bending over to try and meet Allen's eyes once more. "We've been looking all over for him! He racked up a bunch of debts in our name, and we still can't find the bastard! But now his apprentice is here, and you're gonna take care of the debt for us, ne?"

The young woman fails to resist the urge to scoff. "That's my master for you. Well, I'm chained to a wall in Noah's Ark. How am I supposed to pay off your debts? Besides, they aren't in my name."

"Doesn't matter, hee hee!" the less-verbal one bursts out, peeking over the other guy's shoulder.

However, her answer seems to stump the dark-haired one, because he now looks livid. He releases a strained choking sound as he glares at the white-haired girl. "This isn't over, Exorcist! You're gonna pay our debt, but right now we've got to take you with us."

The golden-haired Noah takes out another pair of dark matter cuffs while the other unchains Allen's hands. "Try anything, and you're dead. The Earl's here, too," the dark one informs her. And because she is hungry, weak, and weary, she does as he says.

Soon enough, the young exorcist is cuffed and newly mobile, on her feet for the first time in what feels like forever. She sways slightly as she stands, the blood rushing away from her legs and to her head. She would have fallen backward were it not for the Noah standing behind her, who catches her as she stumbles, griping all the while.

She knows what to expect when they exit the cell, but she is nonetheless amazed for a second time by the Ark's scenery, despite its familiarity. Allen is sure that no one would ever guess that a place so vibrant and green, so _pristine_ , would harbor such a horrible place—and even more horrible villains.

 _But that's life for you_ , Allen supposes as the two Noah lead her through the maze of white buildings and foliage. Beautiful vessels, despite their outward appearance, are oftentimes still just that: vessels. Shells that house and cover up the truly ugly beings underneath.

She tries not to allow her mind to drift back to Tyki, but it's futile. It seems that everything always comes back to the Noah of Pleasure—at least, it had been this way since he had first entered her life. How could a man so deceitfully handsome be such a….a _monster_?

Allen knows the answer. It's because he _is_ a monster. A monster with a skin so perfect, with a role so prestigious as a chosen vessel of one of God's most beloved humans. Though that may be, it makes him no less of a monster. He kills on a whim, and at the bidding of mankind's greatest enemy.

 _He isn't human_ , Allen thinks. _He isn't._

_He can't be._

_Then what are you?_ a voice asks.

After a few minutes, Allen and the two Noah come to a halt in front of a building. Though it looks almost exactly like the others—the same style, the same color scheme, the same trimmings—it feels much different to the white-haired exorcist.

Her skin prickles with unease. A deadly aura is radiating from inside the building, causing Allen's insides to grow cold with dread. Without even pausing to think about it, she knows that the Millennium Earl is in here. His presence, as intimidating as ever, just seems to ooze out of the place, seeping through all of its cracks and crevices like a gaseous poison.

The young woman swallows with some effort, noticing that her throat has suddenly gone bone dry. She is all alone—Neah is not here right now. He had masked his presence in the moment before the two teenage Noah had come to take her away. Allen knows he is wise to have done so, but she only feels more cornered and helpless than she would have knowing that he is there.

The Noah on either side of her usher her inside in spite of the resistance of her unmoving feet. They push her rudely through the door and into—a dining hall?

The aroma of food permeates the young exorcist's nostrils at the same instant she recognizes the two other faces in the room. Wisely is here, sitting on one side of the large dining table that takes up most of the hall's space. The surface of said table is almost completely obscured by covered silver platters and clean dishes. Cutlery decorates the area beside the plates, glittering prettily in the scant light provided by the chandelier hanging above them.

And all the way at the end of the ridiculously ostentatious table is the Earl himself. He sits, paunchy and plump, with his hands clasped in front of him in what looks like speculation. Though the girl can't and never has seen his eyes, she knows he is staring at her. She meets his gaze, the deadly glint of his glasses leaving her too shocked and proud to look away.

The two enemies stare at each other for so long that the entire room fills with an awkward silence, which is broken only a moment later by the Maker of Akuma himself.

"Allen Walker," the Earl's low pitch draws out every syllable, stretching her name out like a rubber band. "Why don't you have a seat with us? Please, make yourself comfortable! Food will be served shortly."

Her eyes instinctively narrow, though her stomach gives a hopeful little flop at the mention of food. It is only then that Allen realizes that the two Noah who had escorted her here are now nowhere to be found. Only Wisely and the Earl remain.

A cold sweat breaks out on the back of her neck as she recalls the vivid memory of Wisely's brand of torture. Her breathing picks up, and her heart pounds in her ears so loudly that she is certain the Earl can hear it, too. Her feet move forward of their own volition, leading her to the large table. She takes a seat in the nearest chair—the one directly opposite the Earl's, and places her cuffed hands down on the table's surface. She says nothing, but listens intently to her racing heart, which continues to pump blood at double-time despite her conscious attempts to slow it.

She sets her gaze on a spot just above the Earl's head, but is still all too aware of both sets of eyes on her unmoving form.

As she inhales deeply, Allen calls forth all of her courage, and speaks. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Earl," she monotones, drawing her gaze down to meet his with what she hopes is a glare rather than a cower.

The fat man giggles with glee, perching his long chin on his hands. "A good evening to you as well, Allen Walker. I trust that you are finding your room to be hospitable?"

She nods. "Yes. It suits me quite well, actually."

The three of them sit in silence for another moment before the Earl suddenly snaps his fingers. At the snap of his digits, the door behind his chair is swung open, and several servants waltz into the room. Allen gasps reflexively as her cursed eye activates, the usual spinning gear appearing over the shining red organ. All of the servants are Akuma, a fact which doesn't surprise her in the slightest. Each one has a pentacle stamped like a signpost on their forehead.

The young exorcist tenses as one of the maids comes around to her side of the table, and nearly panics as she reaches over her head with a gray hand. She removes the lid from the plate in front of Allen, revealing a steaming dish of white rice and several small chunks of deliciously seasoned meat. A platter of chopped potatoes is also opened beside the larger plate. The white-haired girl's stomach growls so intensely at the sight and smell of the food that she doesn't even take notice of the Akuma servants' departure.

The room lapses back into an uncomfortable silence again as the Earl, Wisely, and Allen are left alone with their overabundant plates of food. Even as the young exorcist watches both of the men in the room begin to eat, she herself doesn't even touch a single piece of the food in front of her. She sits, completely still and silent as both the Earl and Wisely slowly finish off their portions.

After the fat man wipes his mouth with his handkerchief, he casts a wondering gaze at the exorcist directly across from him. "Now, don't be rude, Allen," he chastises her with humor evident in his voice. "Feel free to eat all you want. You are hungry, aren't you? We can't have you getting sick, now."

The young woman clenches her jaw and shakes her head. "I'm not hungry," she lies through her teeth.

"You shouldn't try to lie when I'm around," Wisely interjects in a bored tone as he leans his head on his hand. "You're starving. You can't lie to me, remember, Allen Walker?"

The girl's silver eyes harden as she glares intensely at the tablecloth, not meeting Wisely's accusatory glance. Is she that obvious? Is she just terrible at lying, or is it something else? Can he hear her stomach rumbling? It sure feels as though it's loud enough to be heard.

"Neither," the nonchalant man says, causing Allen to stiffen in her seat.

Her skin crawls with morbid dread. _Did he…did he just answer my thoughts?_

With wide eyes, the exorcist turns to meet Wisely's gaze, her breathing suddenly shallow. _Can he…can he hear what I'm thinking right now?_

"That is one of my powers, yes," the scarf-wearing man tells her. "You already experienced one of my other abilities just recently. It wasn't pleasant for you, I'm sure. Do you understand now, Walker?"

She swallows, her hands clenching the tablecloth. She understands the implications of his words, and the message he is trying to send her.

_I am in your head. I can torture you if you do not cooperate, and I can see right through your lies. I know what you're thinking, and I can use your mind against you._

_I am in control._

Lost in her thoughts, she nods once, her head dipping down almost unnoticeably.

"Now eat," the Noah of Wisdom commands. "We can't have you dying on us."

She hears his words, but is too distracted to obey them. She is too caught up in what she had just learned. If Wisely can read minds, then what _can_ she keep from him? If she slips up in her thoughts, even just once, then he may learn some valuable piece of information. None of her secrets are safe.

 _Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it_ …She continuously chants in her mind, willing herself to remain focused on the moment at hand, rather than the implications of Wisely's disturbing power. _A mind reader…this is bad._

_Very, very bad._

Allen twitches in her seat when the Earl interrupts her with another command.

"Eat," he says once again, his tone leaving no possible hope of refusal.

And this time, Allen obeys. In spite of her cuffed hands, her manual dexterity allows her to wield a fork successfully—albeit with some difficulty—and she manages to lift bites of rice and chunks of juicy meat into her salivating mouth. She nearly groans aloud at the feeling of actual food entering her stomach, and barely holds her tongue. She finds quickly that eating effectively distracts her from most of the negative, self-defeating thoughts blooming in her mind, and begins to focus her attention on chewing more slowly so as to prolong the activity. This is, of course, difficult, since it is in direct protest of the urge to simply inhale the food on the plates.

A few agonizingly silent minutes later, Allen sets down her silverware and clasps her bound hands on the table in front of her. She doesn't know how the other two beings in the room feel, but to her, the tension in the air is so thick as to be nearly suffocating. She has the sudden temptation to reach for the butter knife on her right and stab through the abstract sensation.

"How are you faring, Allen?" the Earl asks lowly all of a sudden, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Do you feel well?"

She stares at the large man across from her for far too long, and before she can stop herself, she replies. "What kind of question is that?" With a great amount of trepidation, she thinks that this is the rudest she has ever been to him.

The Earl, however, doesn't seem fazed by this. "It's in my—and your—best interest if you are doing well, Allen Walker."

The white-haired girl's eyes widen, and she clenches the edge of the table beneath her hands. "If that's true, then why am I being kept locked in a cell?" She tries to keep her tone of voice calm and even, but still retains a hint of bitterness in her words.

The Earl waves his hand dismissively, brushing off her question as though it is silly. "That was merely a precaution. From now on, you will be kept and housed in a real room—still in the Ark, of course, but it will definitely be much more comfortable than your current lodgings."

Skepticism screams its presence in the back of the white-haired girl's mind, not trusting in the least regarding the Earl's apparent change of heart. "Why? We are enemies, right, Earl? What do you stand to gain by keeping me comfortable? I understand that you want information. That's why I'm not dead right now, isn't it? But why take me out of my cell? I am a prisoner, aren't I? There's no need to treat me humanely." She might be digging her own grave right now, but she doesn't really care. Allen ignores the tell-tale hammering of her heart and the onslaught of fear, now determined to get to the bottom of the situation.

The fat man across from her takes a moment to respond as he ponders her barrage of questions. "Indeed, you are a prisoner. It is true that you have caused quite a great deal of problems for me as well, Allen Walker. In fact, I used to question why I did not simply kill you on that night so many years ago. Until fairly recently, I have been at a loss as to the reason why." The Earl seems to glow with wonder and excitement, the latter emotion disturbing the young woman while the former only fills her with rapt confusion. "But now, I believe I have discovered why. It was fate that I did not kill you that night, Allen-chan. Now, I have something in my possession that is much more valuable than another extra Akuma."

With every increasingly obscure and impactful word, the things that the young woman is hearing only come across as more abstract—as nothing more than the meaningless and insane rambles of a deranged lunatic. She thinks, with a hint of wry humor, that they are.

But despite their ridiculous insinuations, the Earl's statements still rock into her very core, causing her hackles to rise in alarm and her stomach to knot in dread.

_What is he going on about? What is he doing, talking about fate? How else am I valuable to him, aside from providing him with information? He seems to be getting pretty melodramatic about this…_

She barely manages to cut off her train of thought before her thoughts carry her too far away, and she snaps back to reality. "What?" she gasps out finally, now both disturbed and even somewhat angry. She is disturbed in part because she does not understand the Earl's cryptic words, and she is angry because…well, just in general. "What are you talking about?" she demands.

"Hold your tongue, Exorcist," Wisely interjects with a warning, calm as the still sea.

"Please, just tell me what you're talking about." She continues to pry, not heeding the Noah's words. "I need…I need to know why I'm here."

"The Earl is under no obligation to answer any of your questions. If you keep pestering him, then I will make you stop," the Noah of Wisdom states with finality.

Even though she hears the man's clear warning, and can sense the imminent danger of defying him, she turns to meet his gaze head-on.

"I'm not afraid of you." That's all she says to the man in response, her voice kept low and calm.

But apparently it's still enough to be classified as an act of defiance, because immediately after those words leave her mouth, she is thrown once again into misery.

Crippling pain blooms in her body, and Allen Walker is lost in a haze of torment for the second time. Agony rips through her, and she gasps, her eyes bugging out of her skull as she slams her forehead on the table out of sheer reflex.

Her nails claw at the table beneath her, scratching and tearing through cloth and chestnut in their desperation to grab ahold of something tangible, something that can relieve the sensation of being torn apart from the inside. The white-haired girl narrowly manages to avoid biting her tongue, letting her mouth hang open at the last second. She is almost tempted to do so, if only it will end the pain.

Agony. It is crawling within her skull, and radiating away to all of the other areas of her body. She thinks she is screaming, or at least trying to—she has to be—but the roar in her ears drowns out any noises she could possibly be making.

So she waits. She waits for the pain to stop, for the torture to cease as her silver eyes clamp shut against the world and her body feels as though it's on fire.

And she prays for herself to hold on.

* * *

As Tyki wanders down the halls of the Ark, he feels his mind begin to do the same. Both his body and mind had been acting up as of late, left restless ever since he had last left Allen in her cell—ever since he had caught Road outside, staring at him. Strangely enough, that's not the part of the situation that bothers him the most. As weird as it may sound to anyone else, Tyki trusts Road. She may be a weird, occasionally psychotic woman-child, but she is the Noah he prefers to associate with the most—even more so than his own brother.

She hadn't seemed angry or threatening when he had last seen her, and to be honest he isn't even sure if she knows anything substantial about his relationship to the young exorcist. Still, even if she does suspect anything, he doesn't think that she has told or will tell anyone anytime soon. So he isn't worried about her.

No, what he is most bothered by is the young woman he had left behind. It's gotten worse—the frequency of her presence in his thoughts, that is. Sleep had deviously eluded him for nearly the entire time he had been away from her, her image occupying most of his thoughts, and when it hadn't, she had still been ever-present in his dreams. He had awoken in his room not too long ago, in fact, the remnants of his dream leaving him sweaty and in want of something, her soft pants and moans echoing in his mind for minutes after. After taking a quick bath and leaving his bedclothes buried in his closet, he had opted to go on a "leisurely" stroll around the Ark.

Now, however, he is beginning to regret even leaving the safety of his room, for he feels nothing but a sensation reminiscent of a magnetic pull, leading him towards what he knows is the direction of her cell.

 _This girl is going to be the death of me_ , he gripes, running his hands over his tired eyes.

Jut as he is about to turn around and venture to her cell in an attempt to relieve himself of his torment, he hears a horrible wail. A caterwaul of pure, uninhibited agony pierces his ears, and he stiffens at first before his mind processes what he has just heard.

It's Allen's voice. That alto tone is unmistakable to his ears.

Her screams are originating from the building right beside him, which he knows upon first glance is the dining hall. Without a second thought, the Noah of Pleasure goes barreling in, slamming through the doors in his frenzied haste.

Upon entering, the sight that greets him is, in all manners, chaotic. The Millennium Earl and Wisely are both seated at the table, both watching with stoic expressions as the white-haired exorcist across from them muffles her cries with the chestnut.

Tyki finds himself immobile, not by choice, but by a complete lack of knowing what to do. He stares at the young woman, the object of his fascination, both transfixed and horrified, with a mixture of morbid satisfaction and an unquenchable need for Wisely to _stop_. It's just like before, when Wisely had manipulated her back in her cell—only this time is worse, somehow more painful to watch.

He stares, doing nothing as her fingers and toes curl, her teeth clench in agony, her back arches with the spasms of pain that are also shown by the periodic grimaces on her delicate face.

And for the first time ever, the Noah of Pleasure thinks that there is nothing he wants more than for her pain to cease.

And then, out of nowhere, it does.

All at once, Wisely's power is released, and the young woman draws in a deep breath before slumping sideways in her chair, completely and utterly spent. Tyki watches as the girl falls sideways in slow motion, taking the seat down with her. With a booming thud, both girl and chair hit the ground. Allen splays out on her side, now completely immobile as she gasps in a low voice.

For a few quiet seconds, Tyki thinks that she looks dead. Were it not for the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the soundless twitching of her cuffed hands, he would have even believed it so.

"Wisely," the Earl says in a grave voice, "please go a bit easier on her next time. We don't want her to be hurt too badly or permanently damaged." He casts a stern look at the Noah of Wisdom, who nods once in response.

"Yes, Lord Millennium," he concedes. "I got a little carried away."

"It isn't like you to lose control of your emotions, Wisely," the fat man comments, both of them still ignoring Tyki's entrance. "I know it must be difficult for you, given the circumstances, but you must try to hold yourself back. Now then, did you happen to catch anything while you were inside her mind?"

Briefly, Tyki sees Wisely shoot a glance his way—the first sign of acknowledgment that he has thus received. "Nothing of importance," he communicates in a bored voice, his eyes now being drawn to the dirt in his fingernails.

Tyki raises a questioning eyebrow. Obviously, the other Noah is lying. However, he cannot tell if it is to hide information from only him or the Earl as well. Idly, he figures that Wisely would not be so stupid as to withhold valuable information from their leader and deduces that it is probably something best communicated in private. It's not as though the Earl doesn't keep secrets. So he dismisses Wisely's pointed glance as a mere formality.

"A pity," the Earl admits before turning to face Tyki for the first time. "Now then, Tyki-pon, thank you for joining us. I apologize if that racket bothered you."

The Noah of Pleasure shrugs, aiming to appear nonchalant. "I was just passing by and came to see what the commotion was." He pauses, before adding, "I suppose you would like me to take our prisoner back to her cell now?" He is mentally crossing his fingers that the Earl agrees.

"Wonderful idea, Tyki-pon. However, would you mind taking Allen Walker with you back to your room? I have decided that she will be staying with you from now on."

The man's golden eyes bulge out. Since when had the Earl decided to put her within his vicinity? Not that he's complaining—as a matter of fact, his blood even heats up brilliantly in his veins at the mere thought—but it's still an unprecedented occurrence.

Still, all he does is nod and say, "May I ask why, Lord Millennium?"

The fat man has no qualms about answering him. "There is no longer any need to have our guest remain in such a place. I believe your room is most suitable for her needs."

Although the large man remains unaware, Tyki finds a double meaning in his words. Yet he says nothing as he steps towards the limp girl on the floor. She is completely still now, most likely rendered unconscious by the sheer trauma of Wisely's torture. Once again, Tyki finds himself cursing the scarf-wearing boy for his actions, for causing his exorcist the pain that surpasses even what he has done to her. Even the minuscule amount of pleasure he usually receives from watching her squirm is gone, obscured by the irrational anger he is projecting towards the Noah of Wisdom. He attempts to smother it, to push it down into the bottom of his mind so as not to arouse suspicion. Instead, he tries to focus all of his attention on the girl below him. This, of course, isn't too difficult—his greatest and most pleasant distraction for the past few months of his life has been Allen Walker's face.

Now, however, the porcelain skin of her complexion is hidden by her hair, which forms a ragged curtain around it as the white mess falls in tangles before her eyes. Resisting the urge to push it away, he kneels down and scoops the girl into his arms, taking great care that her head is not lolling back uncomfortably. It leans against his front, her breath ghosting over the slightly opened chest of his white shirt. The warm air raises gooseflesh over the skin of his heart, allowing warmth to seize his body and send a small shiver down his spine that he fervently hopes goes unnoticed.

Just as he turns around to leave, the Earl's voice calls him back once more.

"Tyki-pon, would you be so kind as to take our guest to the bath? She looks as though she could use one. We wouldn't want her to be kept filthy for too long."

Without even turning around or raising an alarmed eyebrow at the Earl's request (though his heart does speed up quite a bit), Tyki nods and continues on his way out. He heads back to his room at an increased pace, eager to obey the Earl's command.

Had he been a different sort of person, however, he might have paused for a crucial moment outside the doorway. Had he been a different sort of person, he might have even overheard the last part of the conversation he had walked in on.

But he isn't, and he doesn't—but that's a story for another time.

* * *

"What are you aiming to accomplish by leaving her alone with Tyki, Lord Millennium? I know you have a reason for it."

The Earl is not fazed in the least by Wisely's question; as a matter of fact, it seems as though he had expected it. His hands unclench at the words, and his lips pull back into a small, satisfied grin. "You saw the same thing as I, Wisely," he admits cryptically. "We had her locked in that cell for days, and not once did Allen Walker attempt to escape. Had she known of the cell's design, she surely would have escaped at her first chance. After all, she wouldn't have known that we put her there for that reason: to see if she would, or could, escape. As far as anyone is concerned, we just think she is a normal exorcist, so we would have no reason to resort to trickery."

His shiny spectacles meet Wisely's knowing gaze, and their dangerous gleam sends shivers down his spine.

"Only one person, besides Road, knew of that cell's existence, form, and function prior to their death. With this, we can be sure of Allen's true identity." He giggles without humor at his next thought. "And I am sure that our Tyki-pon will be none too happy about that."


	10. A Surge of Emotion

Flames crackle and pop amidst the darkness, the arms of fire periodically lighting up and dimming down the room. Orange and yellow tendrils lick at the splintering wood within themselves, charring the once-crisp logs.

From her perch on the Oriental rug, Road watches the paths of the traveling flames with disinterested eyes. She is splayed out on her back in front of the fireplace as she takes in the spectacle before her. The flames grow, they eat and burn through everything in their path, they die back…and then they're gone. It's as simple as that. Not exactly what she would call a lot of fun, but there you go.

The oldest Noah likes it here, surprisingly enough, in this room full of old dusty bookshelves and a rocking chair and a large, overly decorated fireplace. Despite the antiquity of it all, the air is warm, and the atmosphere pleasant. It is one of the few scenes that has the capacity to relax her—a sensation that, right now, she sorely needs.

"Road."

She sighs at the newcomer's apathetic voice. Ah, yes—she had known that he would come to pay her another visit sooner or later. With him, it's usually sooner. She has been expecting this, which is why she makes a point not to turn her face towards the voice; she merely closes her eyes and gives a tired exhalation of breath.

"I'm surprised to see you, Wisely," she coos. "What have you come here to talk to me about? Knowing you, you already know what's on _my_ mind."

The Noah of Wisdom stays silent for a while, rather than actually answering her question. She could almost laugh, and she does end up releasing a constrained giggle. Is he trying to probe her mind? What else is there to figure out? She is sure he already knows everything. Even if he hasn't by some miracle read her mind, or Tyki's, or Allen's, she is willing to bet that the Earl has already told him what had really transpired thirty-five years ago. After all, Wisely is an irreplaceable resource in this delicate situation, where a great deal of obscure mind-probing is required.

Sure enough, his next query confirms her thoughts.

"How long are you going to keep pretending, Road? You know what is going on. You've been around for the entire time that the others and I have been gone."

She scrunches up her face in an immature display of mock consideration. "I do."

Wisely places one nail-painted hand on his hip. "So you must also know who Allen Walker is, in all meanings of the word."

Road takes a pause. "Yes. You can tell that just by looking at her."

Wisely heaves a deep sigh, cradling his chin with the tips of his fingers. "I'm not talking about just her heredity, and you know it. I am also referring to the unmistakable presence she emitted during our dinner, as well as her thoughts at the time. You weren't there, but surely you must have felt it."

"Mm-hm."

"Yet you still insist on being so stubborn. I have talked to the Earl, and I can sense it in your thoughts. I know that you have always had a soft spot for the two of them, though I personally cannot see why. They are traitors. Is it because they spared your life? No, that's not it…"

Without another word towards his probing, Road stands up. She stays staring at the fire, leaving Wisely to gaze at her back. "You couldn't understand," she says sadly as she wheels around and heads toward the door that had just materialized behind her. With her hand on the knob, she says, "Family is family."

"Yet you also know that Tyki is being used and have done nothing to stop it. Is he not family as well? What do you say to that?"

She pauses as she prepares to leave, her gaze stuck on the immaculate floorboards beneath her. "I say that Tyki has not yet consciously sensed the Noah within her. He can't, because he has not fully given into the Noah himself. He also does not yet have a full memory of what happened all those years ago." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "I say…let him live in the dream for a little while longer."

* * *

The white-haired girl is moaning piteously as Tyki carries her down the hallway that leads to his room. Her cuffed hands clench and strain as though trying to grab ahold of something, to gain her bearings, and eventually she settles for his white shirt. She fists the material with strength just short of tearing it, and he sighs in response. She's being unusually clingy and restless from whatever it is that is that Wisely had done to her. The Noah of Pleasure shudders to imagine what she is being forced to live out beneath her eyelids. He is just thankful that he has been spared the displeasure of experiencing it with her.

However, this lone upside does nothing to make the scene any more pleasant to watch.

Every so often, her face twitches in barely-concealed pain—whether it is emotional or physical, he can't be sure—and her nose crinkles in discomfort, and Tyki sinks a bit more into restlessness at her lack of response to his verbal prompts.

"Girl," he calls in a teasingly sing-song voice, jostling her limp body in his arms. His brows furrow when she doesn't respond, but he continues to try to rouse her.

"Girl, it's time to wake up. You wouldn't want to make me angry, now, would you?"

Nothing; not even a shiver or an unconscious mumble of his name.

Finally, he tries something else.

"Allen." Her name sounds strange on his tongue, but he tries to spew it out regardless. He can't recall a time when he had actually greeted her by it, a fact which doesn't unsettle him so much as elicit a feeling of curiosity.

Either way, it doesn't work, and he's back to square one. Uneasiness has finally seemed to get the better of him. He doesn't know what Wisely has done to her or where he has sent her mind off to, but he hopes for his own sake that it wears off soon. He doesn't think he can take one more moment of overwhelming silence.

"Kanda."

Well—that does it. He freezes, his whole body tensing up as the girl in his arms says one of the few words in existence that he loathes. He glances down at her with a tight-lipped expression, only to see that she is still in obvious distress, as shown by her drawn features. She is still asleep, still stuck in whatever memory Wisely had seen fit to conjure up.

The Noah of Pleasure clenches his teeth, determined to hold in his seething frustration until he at least reaches his room.

He makes it there with his charge in record time, and is greeted at his door by an Akuma maid. He frowns at the servant's presence; so the Earl had already planned ahead on Allen's stay in his room. Who would've thought? Then again, Tyki supposes he shouldn't be surprised—the Earl always did seem to be somewhere over their heads, always one step ahead of wherever the opponents were in the game. It's one of his many bizarre attributes.

Tyki spares the Earl's creation no glance as he steps through the door, but the Akuma trails in silently after him like an annoyingly sinister shadow. He wastes no time in getting rid of her— _it_ , he corrects himself—once all three of them are safely inside the closed room.

"Go run a bath for her," he commands the Akuma servant, who only nods and delivers a robotic curtsy in response. She heads immediately over to the attached bathroom, leaving the Noah and the unconscious exorcist alone. Once all is silent but for the echo of running water in the background, Tyki lays the white-haired girl on his bed.

Instantly, his mind drifts back onto the course it had been on back in the hallways of the Ark.

Kanda. As always, her concern for her friends and her comrades in the Order shines through more than anything else in her memories—even him.

 _And for the man who loves her_ , a timid voice in the back of his head reminds him. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in aggravation. Why can't he get that dead man's image out of his head? There's a very slim chance that he had survived the blows that Tyki had dealt him, so why can't he stop thinking about the dark-haired samurai who loves Allen Walker?

He sighs, leaning his cheek into his palm. It's undeniably true that the other exorcist holds a place in her heart that he will never be privy to, but so does he, in a way. He had been her first—her only, as far as he can tell—and that's something that she will always remember.

That's something that Kanda can never take back. Even though it had been forced, even though she had never once conceded to his advances, they had still happened. She's with _him_ , and he intends to keep it that way—for what real purpose, he is still unsure.

On the bed, Allen begins to mumble incoherently. As he watches, her hands strain against their binds in an emotionally-induced fit, causing his paranoia of her cutting her wrists and bleeding out to reemerge. He attempts to calm her, if only to relieve his peace of mind regarding her possible accidental death and already-annoyed mood, placing one of his hands on her forehead and the other on her hip. He rubs soothing circles into her hipbone, and brushes a few escaped strands of hair out of her eyes, watching her face relax as he does so.

But when her eyes suddenly open, he stiffens.

His mind must be playing tricks on him, because for a brief moment, as the pair locks gazes, he could swear that he sees a flash of gold amidst the silver. Before his own eyes, a shade of light brown hair replaces the white atop her head and then fades to black, pale skin darkens to gray…

But as quickly as it had come, it's gone, and Allen Walker is back to looking as she does normally, as she is supposed to. Completely normal—with no brown or black hair, and certainly no Noah stigmata or markings to speak of. This all happens in the blink of an eye, and then the girl beneath him seems to remember where she is and who she's with, because she immediately sits up straight. She pulls away from him, crushing herself against the headboard out of reflexive fear that he knows she is right to harbor. She has already prepared herself, and is staring at him as though waiting for him to strike or, at the very least, give her an explanation. There's not much else she can do while she is still chained, really.

However, on his end, he is apparently stuck in a trance, his gaze locked onto her rigid, fearful face. He, for once, is being completely silent. This is ironic, considering the fact that he now has more to say to her than he had ever thought possible. He wants to say _something_ to her in response to what he has just seen, but for the first time, finds himself too tongue-tied to come up with the proper words. He wants—no, _needs_ to ask just who that other person was, who he had seen as she had awoken from her slumber. She had looked so different, yet still so similar. The face had been the same, yet the coloring had been only slightly off. Tyki is speechless. Once again, the white-haired girl had left him floored.

And once again, he finds himself asking the same old question.

Just who _is_ Allen Walker?

* * *

It's happening once more.

She's reliving all of her mistakes, all of her past foibles, all over again. Especially persistent are the ones that linger most, the time spent wallowing in sorrow and soaked bed sheets after she had destroyed Mana, and the weeks and weeks after her initial rape. However, those traumatic memories soon give way to another moment.

The moment when she had failed in protecting both herself and her home—and, above all else, her comrades.

For what seems like the hundredth time, Allen witnesses the dark-haired swordsman get pierced through the chest by Tyki's dark matter, only to then collapse onto the ground as she flings the Noah of Pleasure away with her Crown Clown. For another time, she runs toward him, watches him struggle to move, struggle to breathe, and sees the samurai hack up scarlet onto her coat.

And she still can't do anything to help him. She still can't move her feet to save Kanda, or Lenalee, or Lavi—or anyone.

She can't do a single thing.

 _It's hopeless,_ she repeatedly tells herself in an attempt to lessen the pain in her heart. _There's nothing I can do. I can't change what's already happened…_

" **That doesn't sound like you, Allen,"** a familiar soothing voice reminds her. **"I thought you had promised Mana that you would never stop moving forward. Isn't that right?"**

She bites back the crass insults she would like nothing more than to throw back at Neah. At the moment, she is too caught up in her surroundings to even bother fighting back.

" **Allen."**

A hand grabs her shoulder then, gentle but firm as it pulls her back, back, back—and suddenly, the dismal environment of the Black Order's dining hall disappears.

Suddenly, she is standing in the same clearing from her dreams, taken completely off guard and too stunned to utter a word of protest.

Everything looks the same as from her last dream, except for a few key details. There is now a waxing crescent moon floating high above her, the area of its illumination slightly larger than it had been before. The sliver of light has grown, and with it the region of land that is alight for her eyes to see.

"I'm back," she says aloud, finding her voice amidst the silence. The low timbre echoes against the rubble and reflective puddles around her.

And then, she finds that she is not alone. A man is standing before her, clad in slacks and a long trench coat. His hair is dark and tousled, his face as calm and serene as the water's surface. But what catches the young woman's eyes and alerts her as to his true identity is the unmistakable gray hue of his skin. Without a need for an introduction, Allen knows who this man is.

"Neah," she whispers, the name sounding foreign to her tongue. But the name certainly is fitting for the young man, as benign and unsuspecting as he looks. He looks youthful, not much older than Allen herself, if she had to guess. It occurs to her then that he must have died long before she had been born.

As she stares, his hands slink into his pockets, and a relaxed smile crawls across his features.

"Allen Walker," he replies, verifying her belief as to his identity. "I've been waiting to meet you in person for a long time now."

"But…" she stutters, finding herself stumbling towards the Noah in front of her. She knows she should, logically, be running in the opposite direction, but she can't bring herself to. Instead, she finds herself wondering.

Is he real? Is he actually here, talking to her from inside her mind? Another part of her ponders the apparent fact that this is what Mana's brother looks like, and she pauses for a moment to scrutinize his features. A brief few seconds reveal that there definitely is a resemblance, and it unnerves her as much as it fills her heart with the barest hint of nostalgia.

"How are you here?" she finally asks as she stumbles to a stop in front of him. "How am I seeing you? I thought you were just a voice in my head! I didn't…"

He tilts his head slightly to the side, oblivious as to why she is panicking. "It's true that I'm not physically here. This body is just a manifestation of my old self. I've been attempting to do this for some time, so I could better communicate with you, but I couldn't quite manage it until now."

Choosing to temporarily ignore the fact that this must mean his influence on her is growing stronger, she shakes her head. "Okay, well…how did I get here? Wisely did something to me, didn't he?"

Neah turns away from the white-haired girl, letting out a tired sigh. "Wisely was forcing you to relive your worst memories. Since I share a mind with you, I was able to pull you out and bring you here."

Allen takes a deep breath, attempting to calm her nervous heart. At least she's no longer trapped in the endless monotony of misery that Wisely had set up for her.

But still, one thing is bothering her.

"Where exactly is _here_?" She gestures around them, at the vast landscape of night sky and crumbling debris that is causing her insides to tickle with uneasiness.

Neah raises an eyebrow. "Here? It's your mind, of course. This is where I spend most of my time. Though, I suppose you could also say that it is what's to come."

Allen frowns at her so-called uncle. "You mean it's the future? Is that what all of this debris is? What's it from?"

"In a manner of speaking," the man replies cryptically, only answering her first question. "I wouldn't worry about it too much, Niece. What is fated to happen will happen." He takes a dramatic pause before resuming his speech. "That doesn't mean that you should give up, however. I sensed your feelings, among other things, while reliving your past memories just now. A bit self-defeating, don't you think?"

"But…Wisely…"

"Wisely is trying to keep you stuck on the past and your mistakes to unhinge you. It's true that you cannot change what's been done, but you can't let them win. Continue to look towards the future, Allen, and remain in the present. Do not become a puppet of misery and self-hatred."

Allen is floored. Since when do Noah give advice to their vessels? It sounds almost as if Neah cares about her well-being. But then, she remembers that her safety and his are one and the same—and so, apparently, is the Earl's. So she is unsure as to how she should proceed at this point. Whose side is Neah on? Who is she harming by listening to him? After her dinner with the Earl, she is questioning exactly what Neah's motives are and how they tie in with the fat man's. By allying herself with Neah, is she inadvertently helping the Earl? The rotund man had said something about her being valuable. Does that mean that he…

"But that's not important right now," Neah interrupts her train of thought. "I pulled you here so that I could give you a warning."

Her blood turns to ice as Neah rears back around to look into her eyes. Already, she can sense that he has no good news for her. She takes a deep breath and swallows the lump that had just formed in her throat. Neah's golden eyes harden dangerously, and he looks deadlier than Allen has ever sensed him before. It's enough to make her back up a few steps.

And the next three words that leave his mouth are enough to almost cause her to fall.

"The Earl knows."

Her silver eyes bulge and gleam with a nervous edge. "What do you mean?"

Neah sighs, clenching his hands in the pockets of his coat. "I mean, Allen, that the Millennium Earl and Wisely have discovered that you are my intended vessel. During the dinner, Wisely took your vulnerability from the Earl's provocation as an opportunity to probe your mind. You let your guard down momentarily, and that was enough for him to gauge your awareness of me."

Allen's jaw drops as she digests Neah's words. "But I wasn't…thinking of you…" Her head falls to the ground, and her hands ball at her sides with fury at herself.

She had. For a moment, no matter how brief, she had allowed her thoughts to drift over to Neah. She hadn't even realized it herself, she had been so caught up in overanalyzing the Earl's words. That must have been when Wisely had decided to use his technique on her.

"Dammit," she curses, almost hissing out the word.

"Don't panic, Allen. Whatever you do, you must remain calm. The Earl has caught us off guard, as has Joyd, but we mustn't allow him to win. I am merely warning you so that you will not fall for any more of his tricks. The Earl can be very cunning—I should know."

She nods at him, even though her mind is reeling. So the Earl had said all of those things on purpose, in order to provoke her? Not only that, but she had _let_ him. She had allowed him to take advantage of her emotions, and now he knows that the fourteenth is inside of her. How could she have been so careless and gullible?

Yet, a small part of her wonders if the things he had told her _are_ false. He may have said them to evoke a reaction, but that doesn't necessarily mean that they are untrue.

"Time is of the essence, Allen. I'm going to let your mind go now. You should wake up normally soon."

The white-haired girl nods in agreement, her silver eyes still downcast. "Until next time," she says.

He begins to walk away from her, when out of the blue, something else occurs to her, a coincidental detail that she had noticed earlier but had not said anything about.

"Neah…" she calls out hesitantly.

He stops at the sound of her voice, but doesn't turn back around. She can tell that he is listening regardless.

"Yes?"

She fiddles with the hem of her shirt, now feeling apprehensive. "Your appearance…you look a lot like Tyki Mikk. You two aren't…biologically related, are you?" She silently dreads his answer, though he isn't surprised by her inquiry—as far as she can tell, that is.

"Hm…that's Joyd's new vessel, if I remember correctly. I suppose he does look like me, though there's no blood relation, I assure you. Why do you ask?"

She tries to come up with a valid reason, and fails to do so. "No reason…I was only wondering."

The two stand still for a moment before Neah resumes his casual stroll. "I see. Well then, I'll talk to you again soon, Allen. And remember to look towards the future."

She gasps as a sudden sensation washes over her, and the world around her seems to bleed into a blur of colors and images.

"The past often brings nothing but pain."

* * *

All at once, she wakes up. She is surrounded by warmth and a softness she has not felt in what feels like forever.

But as soon as she catches a glimpse of Tyki sitting beside her, Allen bolts upright and backwards, intent on putting as much distance between herself and the Noah of Pleasure as possible. To her credit, the man does appear slightly shocked by her outburst, his golden eyes alight and curious as they scrutinize her. Perhaps she had startled him?

 _If so, it serves him right_ , she thinks with indignation. Let him be shocked. It'll show him that she isn't as predictable as he thinks. This thought instantly brings some semblance of comfort to the white-haired girl. Yet after a few seconds go by and he continues to stare blankly at her, the sensation fades a little. The look in his eyes unnerves her. His gaze is focused on her, but he seems to be a million miles away. The young woman has never seen the Noah think so intently about anything. If she were able to spare a modicum of concern for him, she would have reached out to grab his shoulder in reassurance. But she doesn't, and the expression in his golden orbs is making her skin crawl.

As it is, she only calls his name. "Tyki?" she says hesitantly, wary of startling him.

"Mikk?" she tries instead when he doesn't respond.

The sound of his other name must alert him, because his eyes seem to suddenly fall back into the present. He smiles tellingly at her. "I told you to call me Tyki, didn't I, girl?" he offers by way of response, coming across as sultry and lackadaisical as ever.

She doesn't dignify him with a response, knowing full well that the question is both rhetorical and too distasteful for her to answer. She isn't dull, after all. She is more befuddled and on edge than anything else. In an instant, he had gone from spaced out and serious back to his usual behavior. What had he been thinking about just now? Whatever it had been, it must have been something significant to the Noah. Allen figures that it won't bode well for her to pry, so she doesn't. However, she reasons that a few harmless questions about her location can't do any harm.

"Where am I now?" she wonders aloud, taking note of the indulgent room she now finds herself in. It's large, though not quite as large as her cell. The walls are painted a deep burgundy, a blushing shade that lends the room an aura of allure. It's the color of romance, and this theme is only enhanced by the lavish decorations and frills of the bed she is sitting on, as well as by the brass candelabra she glimpses spaced throughout the room.

"In my room," Tyki tells her offhandedly, taking up a casual slouch on his edge of the bed.

This piece of knowledge immediately sends a shockwave through her system, and the room's décor and Tyki's close proximity suddenly take on a whole new connotation.

A cold sweat breaks out on the back of Allen's neck. "Why aren't I back in my cell? I am…conscious, aren't I?" Her stomach sinks at that last thought until she remembers Neah's words.

The Noah of Pleasure guffaws, his eyes crinkling in what looks like delight at the girl's nervousness. "You are, girl, don't worry about that. The Earl's placed you…under my care, so to speak. It appears that you'll be staying with me from now on. Don't look at me like that—there's no need to be so nervous. I can't quite understand the Earl's reasoning myself, though I am more than glad for the opportunity to see you more often. Perhaps we could even play another round of cards, eh, girl?"

Allen finds herself in denial. This can't be happening. Of all the Noah, why had the Earl chosen to designate _Tyki_ as her caretaker? This must be some cruel joke, some bizarre and horrid twist of fate that had been suddenly thrust upon her.

But then it hits her. Does the Earl know what Tyki had done to her? Is that why he had chosen the Noah of Pleasure to look after her—because she instinctively fears him more than the others?

She takes a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart. _No, that can't be it_ , she reassures herself. She hadn't thought of Tyki once during the dinner—there's no way that the Earl can know.

 _But what about Wisely_? she reminds herself. He had forced her to relive her worst memories—amidst the chaos, he surely must have seen what had transpired that night.

Then, she tries to reassure herself again, concluding for a lack of other hopeful prospects that Neah would have told her that the Earl knew of what Tyki had done. Surely the Earl would have something to say about it, and Neah would have warned her in advance. After all, he had warned her that the Earl knows of his presence.

So this all must be a coincidence. A very unfortunate, horrifying coincidence.

"Lord Tyki Mikk," a meek, feminine voice implores from a doorway to Allen's right—the bathroom, she notices. The girl has to fight against her left eye in order to deactivate it, already knowing that the woman is an Akuma. She must be another one of the maids she had seen earlier, during the dinner. "The bath is ready."

The Noah grunts in acknowledgment and to Allen's shock, grabs the white-haired girl by the elbow. She struggles against his steel grip in reflexive panic, only to be hauled to her feet.

"What's going on?" she demands in a frazzled voice as Tyki guides her towards the bathroom. The Akuma maid steps aside to allow them to pass through, and takes on a guarded stance outside the door.

Upon entering the bathroom, Allen instantly registers the filled tub and clouds of steam that are rising from the water.

What is going on here?

"Unfortunately for you," Tyki drawls as he releases her arm, "you will be taking a bath rather than a shower. It's harder to fight your way out of a bathtub." He chuckles softly at that, and steps away from her.

Then, to Allen's shock, she feels the restraints on her wrists being lessened. She looks down in surprise and hope at her unbound wrists—only to be disappointed and dispirited by the sight of a glowing pink bracelet on her anti-Akuma weapon.

"Don't bother trying to activate it; it won't work with the dark matter on your weapon," the Noah behind her warns.

She sighs and decides to concede for the moment.

"Now strip."

"What?" she gasps in panic, turning to face him. "What are you talking about?"

The Noah of Pleasure raises a quizzical brow. "It means to take off one's clothes, girl. I thought you would know that, considering that you once made me do so on a train."

Allen flushes scarlet at the memory, both in embarrassment and fear. So he wants her to take a bath, does he? She knows she must reek something awful, but knowing him, she'll end up his prey once again in the process. Her skin crawls, her face burns, and she wants nothing more than to go back outside and curl up on Tyki's bed.

"I don't need to take a bath," she says in desperation, knowing full well how obvious of a lie that is. But she hopes beyond hope that he will relent.

He doesn't. "It's an order from the Earl himself, girl. It's best not to disobey him."

Allen clenches her teeth, trying not to betray the fear she is feeling on her face. "Then…can you at least look away?" she asks, sensing the finality in his voice but still wanting to preserve what's left of her dignity. However small and shredded the pieces might be, she will still attempt to salvage them.

"Really, girl? I'm disappointed; I thought we were closer than that."

"Well, we're not."

He shoots her a winning smile. "Whatever you say, girl." Then, without any more fuss, he turns around.

Still wary, Allen watches him out of the corner of her eye as she pulls her tank top over her head. With a shaking voice, she asks him, "Why do I have to bathe with you in here?"

She hears him sigh from behind her. "I know you would prefer an Akuma to do it, but I won't underestimate you. Leaving you alone with only a dimwitted Akuma is foolish."

She bites her lip. "Then can't you go get Road?"

"No can do. She'll just dress you up." He pauses before asking, "Why have you stopped?"

In a flash, the white-haired girl whips around, hands coming up to cover her almost-exposed chest. To her horror, Tyki is looking over his shoulder at her, his gaze wicked and devious. The young woman blushes profusely and turns her back on him once again. "Stop looking!"

"Only if you stop taking your sweet time. You're such a tease, girl."

She grits her teeth in shame, resolving to bear his loathsome gaze. She reaches around to undo her chest bindings. They loosen as she unwraps them, until they unwind completely and fall into a small heap on the floor beside her shirt. Her leggings are next, and she prays that he is not watching as intently as she slips off her underwear. What a pipe dream _that_ is.

Finally, she stands there, completely nude but for the arms folded across her breasts. Goosebumps crawl across her skin in the cold air, and she stiffens as she feels a sudden shifting behind her. Tyki is standing just a few inches away, facing her back as she stands, bared for him to see. She shivers as she feels his breath ghost across her neck.

"You should get in, girl. The water's getting cold."

With her nerves and legs shaking, she approaches the large tub, gingerly placing one foot into the warm water. The temperature instantly relaxes her, though she tries not to show it. She doesn't sense Tyki's eyes leave her form until she has settled entirely into the water, and that is only because he has entered her line of vision. She tries to distract herself by surveying the various sundries at her disposal. Grabbing a small bottle of shampoo, she gets to work on washing her greasy hair, and tries to pay no mind to the man beside her. Even so, Allen can sense him scrutinizing her every movement as she dunks her hair back into the water.

After finishing up with her hair, the young woman reaches for the bar of soap perched on the edge of the tub. As she proceeds to wash her limbs and torso—beneath the water, just for the sake of not letting him see her—Tyki startles her by moving closer.

It had happened so quietly that she hadn't noticed. He now sat cross-legged beside the tub, his head dangerously close to hers. His mouth hovers over the junction between her neck and collarbone, and his next words cause her to let out a minute gasp.

"You seem a little on edge, girl. Would you care to talk about it?"

Although she knows, without a doubt, that he is taunting her, she cannot keep herself from responding.

In a shaky whisper, she asks, "Why wouldn't I be? After all the things you've done to me, why would I want to even be around you?"

Even Tyki appears to be taken aback for a brief instant, but he retains his casual posture before long. "This again?" he chortles. "As far as I'm concerned, apart from destroying your arm, I've only ever brought you pleasure. Anything else you've experienced is a consequence of the Earl and Wisely."

Allen's hand squeezes the bar of soap firmly enough to cause it to begin to ooze out from between her fingers. Anger, unchecked and desperate, flutters in her chest. "How can you be so nonchalant? You have no idea what I went through afterwards…the pain…"

"Ah, yes. I guess I should apologize for not calling you the morning after, girl. It was rude of me, but I was a bit busy. I do hope your feelings weren't too hurt."

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she forces them down with her ire. "You don't understand. All that blood…" She loses track of her words, her mind now caught up in the memory of that painful night, the one where she had bled all over herself. The agony, the loneliness…they still manage to find her. Of course she knows what it had been, and is all too aware of the consequences had the outcome been otherwise.

But it's still painful.

Tyki, however, is merely intrigued. "Blood? What are you talking about?"

The white-haired girl giggles discordantly as a few tears fall, deriving a sick satisfaction from his ignorance.

Well, perhaps she should enlighten him, then.

"I miscarried a few weeks after you…found me," she whispers, making eye contact with him for the first time. As she looks into his eyes, she takes note of the stages of his emotions. First, there is confusion as he tries to comprehend her words; then a sort of cold calculation as he makes the connection.

And finally, realization dawns on him, and Tyki stares at her wordlessly.

Allen says the words for him.

"You got me pregnant that night," she tells him, now feeling somehow lighter now that she's gotten it off her chest. Strangely enough, it gives her a sort of relief to tell him what had happened, to have someone other than herself and Fou know. It's almost like a form of closure—that is, until she sees Tyki's eyes darken a shade.

"What did you say, girl?" he says quietly, his voice sending shivers down her spine. She doesn't answer, too startled by his sudden change in demeanor.

He stands up suddenly, much too fast for Allen's tastes, and she tenses beneath the soapy water. He is towering over her, his stance reminding the white-haired girl of the physical disadvantage she has.

And as he looms ever closer to her, Allen cannot shake the feeling that she has just made a terrible mistake.

* * *


	11. A Turn of Events

"…Tyki?"

Allen doesn't know—and can't begin to guess—what's going on inside the Noah's head, but she knows on instinct and from prior experience that it can't be anything good.

For her, at least.

Or maybe it's not instinct or experience so much as the expression of eerily calm fury etched onto the man's face. She hasn't seen him wear such a look under any circumstances—other than the case that he has a hankering for homicide. She almost doesn't know what to make of it; what had she done to elicit this reaction? He looks so… _angry_.

But she knows, despite the evidence, that this can't be all that he is feeling. There's something else hiding beneath his flawless gray skin, something else shining in his golden eyes besides the flickering light of candles. It's almost as if…

The white-haired girl gasps, startled from her thoughts when the Noah of Pleasure suddenly appears beside her. He's kneeling down to her level once again, his face a mere two inches from hers. His breath ghosts over the skin of her throat, and she tenses, swallowing the reflex to bolt as he reaches around her to grasp the tub's faucet. A low gurgling noise fills the room, telling Allen that the tub is being drained. She reaches up hurriedly to cover her breasts as the water level drops drastically. Within seconds, the tub is empty, and the young woman is left trembling in the sudden cold.

Tyki has not yet responded to her, but he is still sitting beside the young woman, not having moved an inch or even taken his eyes off of her since she had last spoken. If anything, his face has gotten even closer than it had been before, and Allen shivers once again—though this time, it is not from the chilling sensation of the air on her wet skin.

The young woman half-expects Tyki to simply snap her neck and be done with it, even if she knows that he is not permitted to do so by the Earl. Still, the fat man had never said anything about not hurting her, as far as she can tell—and Tyki had already done that, anyway.

But to her shock, this time, he doesn't.

"You were pregnant," he says out of nowhere, his tone of voice far from what it had been only a moment ago. Now, it's quiet—more thoughtful, but still with an edge that makes the white-haired girl uneasy.

She nods, bringing her own gaze around to meet his. "I was."

"With my child."

Another nod, and she looks away from the Noah, casting her eyes at the farthest wall she can find.

"But not anymore," he concludes, his hands gripping the edge of the tub.

In some sort of defense mechanism, Allen brings her knees in closer to her chest and wraps her arms around them, hugging them to her body. This action makes her appear smaller and more modest to the gray man's eyes, but does little else besides making her somewhat more comfortable. She closes her eyes, sighing in relief as the Noah appears to calm down.

This, she learns quickly, is a mistake, as she is then caught off guard by the sudden feeling of masculine hands gripping her upper arms. Her silver eyes snap open, and Allen gasps as she registers Tyki's face right in front of her own. His eyes, she notes with a hint of shock, are desperate, almost pleading—but not angry anymore, she realizes with the slightest bit of ease.

His next words, however, shock her to the core.

"Would you have kept it?" he says in a low voice, his orbs searching her wary face for an answer. At first, Allen is too dumbfounded by the question to respond, but she soon regains her composure enough to consider his question properly.

What would she have done if the child had not died? There are only so many options available to her. Had she begun to show and realized what had been going on with her body, she supposes that she could have gone and found a back-alley doctor to…take care of it, so to speak. Prostitutes and women who procreate out of wedlock do that sort of thing all the time, she had learned from years of living the life of a wanderer. She isn't unfamiliar with the pitfalls of life.

 _But could_ I _have done it?_ she thinks to herself. _It's painful, to be sure, and controversial…it would have had to be done in secret._

_No._

Even with the tempting reason that she would not have had to go through with the birth of the baby and the conflict surrounding him or her, Allen knows that she wouldn't have been able to do it. She doesn't have the stomach for it, even if it would be best for both her and her future child.

But if she _had_ given birth, she knows things would have been much worse. She would be kept from fighting, constantly watched and talked about (not that she isn't used to that already) and, God forbid, _pitied._ Not only that, but if the Order were somehow able to glean that she had been impregnated by a Noah, they surely would have taken the child away.

With a heavy heart, she accepts that no matter how painful the experience is, what happened to her is for the best. Even so, had this not been how things had turned out…

What would she have done?

This befuddled voice in her head is what compels Allen to give an honest answer to the man waiting in front of her.

"I don't know. I guess I'd have found out sooner or later, right?"

As soon as those words leave her mouth, she knows that they are the wrong ones to say. It's obvious in the way Tyki's grasp tightens on her arms, surely leaving large bruises. It's obvious in the way the muscles in his jaw tense and tighten, and it's obvious in the way a virtual cataclysm of emotions unknown to the white-haired girl flashes across his face.

Where is that spark in his eyes? The one that had gone out when she had answered him? Allen then chastises herself, since she's probably reading too deeply into his words and expressions; he's a Noah, after all—a cunning follower of the Earl himself.

 _He doesn't feel as humans do about other humans, only about those of his kind. What right does he have to be concerned about the child that could have existed? About_ my _child? Because it sure as hell wouldn't have been his!_

_But all the same…that spark…_

Out of nowhere, it reignites. Allen can only cry out as she feels herself being shoved backwards, and her back hits the bottom of the tub with a resounding thud. It doesn't hurt too badly, even in her injured state, but she still grunts with the shock. Her hands fly apart to grasp the tub's edges in an effort to stop her descent, but all she ends up doing is baring herself more.

Allen blushes and glares at the man hovering over her and pinning her to the tub by her shoulders. Tyki stares back down at her, now in the empty tub as well. It's a tight fit, and the white-haired girl finds herself struggling against his hold despite the futility of her efforts.

"Why not, girl?" he asks in a hushed voice as he leans down. Allen freezes when he presses the tip of his nose up against hers, and a tingle goes up her spine. "Why don't you know? I thought you were religious. Don't all members of the Black Order value an innocent human life?" His tone is bitingly sarcastic, and it sets Allen's body alight with indignation.

_How dare he talk about the value of human life! He doesn't have the right!_

This thought is what causes Allen to spew out her next few lines, merely in an attempt to rile Tyki up.

"Not if it's born of an exorcist and a Noah," the young woman gasps out, spent by her attempts to wiggle out of his grasp. "It would be considered blasphemy. They would take the baby away from me, call it an abomination—"

She knows all of this is true, though it pains her to admit it; but she is extremely intrigued by Tyki's reaction. His grip tightens suddenly, and Allen cries out at the strangling pain in her limbs. The gray-skinned man leans down farther, nuzzling the side of her neck with his nose. Despite herself, the white-haired girl stops struggling.

"The only abomination," he says in a low voice, "is that you had a child with _him_ instead."

Flabbergasted. It's an appropriate word to describe Allen's state of mind at this moment, and it shows on her face.

"What are you talking about? Tyki—" She lets out a gasp, cutting off her next sentence as Tyki pulls her up and swings her around in her grasp so that she is facing away from him. He pulls the startled girl into his chest, so that her naked back is pressed up against his solid chest.

 _He's too close_ , she thinks as she struggles to keep her body from going into a panic. _He's too close—get him away!_ But of course, her Innocence does nothing, still bound by the dark matter around her wrist. The way she is now, she's essentially helpless to his whims and flights of fancy.

Allen shivers involuntarily as she feels the fingers that are gripping her ghost across her bare stomach, her abdomen giving nervous twitches in response to his touch. He sighs as he pulls her tighter and closer to him, and he inches forward so that his chin is resting on the junction of her neck and shoulder. They are both sitting upright on their knees, and Allen has her legs splayed apart so that she is straddling Tyki backwards. Her forearms and forehead are touching the tiled wall, the cold sensation causing a rippling shiver throughout her body. She can't see his face from this angle, but she is sure that he must be smirking.

"How do you do this to me?" he ponders aloud, in a light whisper.

 _Or maybe not_ , she thinks with slight surprise. "Do what?" she asks, thankful that her voice isn't shaking.

"Affect me like this, girl," he elaborates as he reaches up with one hand to brush her hair away from her neck. He then places a small, slow kiss there, a kiss which becomes more heated as he opens his mouth and begins to suck hungrily on her throat. Against her will, Allen's legs quiver at the sensation, a trail of sparks shooting down and throughout the rest of her body.

Why? Is it because she can't see his face, so it's as though she can pretend that he's not the one doing this to her? That's probably it…

Still…she's never felt like this before.

Shame washes over her as Tyki continues to kiss her throat, and his hands caress her stomach and sides. Ever so slowly, they begin to inch upwards, sliding over the hills and valleys of her skin to come to rest underneath her breasts. She hears a sudden intake of breath before realizing that it is hers, and she can practically feel Tyki's smirk against the back of her neck.

"Don't lie to me, girl. You can't help but love everything—even pathetic Akuma. How could you abandon a baby? Don't make me laugh." He tells her all of this as he traces the underside of her breast with a teasing finger, causing Allen to shiver.

She can't believe what he's saying, though she knows in her heart that it's true. She can't bring herself to hate the child that could have been, even if it _is_ a spawn of Tyki Mikk. Because when it comes right down to it, Allen knows that it wasn't the baby's fault that it had been created—it had been Tyki's. Even though the last thing the white-haired girl wants is to raise a child in this world of horror and destruction, where she has so much to do and so little time on Earth to do it, she doesn't know if she could have made the difficult choice.

So she doesn't say anything.

The Noah of Pleasure chuckles sadly, the sound resonating in Allen's ears. "You really are too kind, Allen. That's going to be your downfall one day. That's why…" He brings his lips to her ear, nibbling gently on the lobe before he speaks again. "…That's why I'm going to savor the time I have with you."

With teasingly slow movements, Tyki runs his opened hand over her left breast, cupping the mound in his palm. Allen lets out a shuddering breath, attempting to hold in the sounds of pleasure her body wants to let escape. Tyki hums against her ear as his mouth latches onto her neck once again, nipping at her overheated flesh with vigor. As his lips pour attention onto the column of her throat, his left hand pays homage to her pert breast, gently squeezing her hardened nipple between two of his fingers. Allen's body squirms at the feeling of sparks shooting through her as the gray-skinned man rolls the stiff bud between his digits, but Tyki only grips her stomach tighter in the hold of his right arm. He rubs tickling circles into her belly, further driving the white-haired girl insane.

But then, his right hand begins to descend…

Tyki's other appendage finds its target quickly. His long fingers crawl slowly over the young woman's flesh, seeking out the small patch of curly hair between her legs. The young woman shivers when he reaches it, two of his digits petting her softly as he explores her body. He's taking his time, Allen notices with a thrill of agitation. The longer he takes, the more he teases her, and the only thing that she believes is worse than being raped violently by an enemy is being handled gently by an enemy. _It's so much worse_ , she thinks, _because it's easy to hate someone who hurts you_.

It's a lot harder to hate someone who makes you feel the way Tyki is making her feel right now. The more drawn-out his strokes of her body and tweaks of her pebbled nipple are, the more restless Allen becomes. Soon, she's twisting in his grasp, uncertain if her body's movements are intended to either free her or ensnare her with more of Tyki's intoxicating touches. The hand nestled between her thighs creeps further down, running towards the part of her that aches, despite the young woman's attempts to stop it, to be touched.

"Stop," she whispers, her silver eyes sliding closed at the sensation of fingertips stroking along her slit. Against her will, Allen moans softly.

"None of that, girl," the man behind her coos into her ear. "You should just relax. Who knows—you may end up enjoying yourself more." He nibbles gently on her pale neck, nuzzling her throat as he does so. "I know I will."

The force of Tyki's fingers increases slightly, and so does the pressure he is applying to the white-haired girl's womanhood. The sensation goes up threefold, and Allen releases a small shudder. The Noah's pointer finger brushes over her swollen nub, and she releases another small moan. She arches her back as he repeats the motion, swirling around the little button with practiced ease.

"Turn your head towards mine," Tyki whispers as he runs his digit over and inside her wet folds. Allen silently does as he says, and though she is compelled to spit in his face as her head twists around to meet his gaze, she resists the urge. Their eyes meet, only a centimeter apart as he continues to rub her sensually. She watches him search her face as he runs his finger over a particularly sensitive area, and she jolts in his arms. He releases a small smile, and then, Tyki does something that all but blows her mind.

He presses his forehead against hers, bringing her closer than she had thought humanly possible—though that isn't really a constraint for him, she supposes. There's something in his eyes then, something similar to the look she had seen before only due to the fact that it's an emotion she has never seen Tyki express.

But her thoughts are scattered as Tyki slips his index finger into her.

Though she had expected the sudden intrusion to be painful, like the first time, Allen finds that now there is merely a slight discomfort. The feeling lasts for only a brief few seconds before it fades away into the dull throb of arousal. Tyki's eyes stare intently at her face as she gasps aloud, her face contorting as arousal pools in her abdomen. The feeling of his digit sliding against her walls nearly undoes her.

"T-Tyki…" _Stop_.

A second finger slips into her as she calls his name, and her toes curl against the tile beneath them. In a maddening rhythm, the Noah of Pleasure pumps his fingers in and out of the white-haired girl, driving her nearly mad with desire and accompanying shame as he does so.

"Go on, girl," he implores her. "Say my name again."

"N-nuhhh…" the young woman groans as Tyki begins to pump his fingers at a faster pace, effectively shredding any words that happened to come to her mind. He really is driving her insane, she thinks with a jolt of indignant rage. But right now, she's finding it difficult to resist. She isn't giving up—far from it—but there's a knot of fire burning in her lower stomach, one that Tyki has created, and at the moment Allen wants nothing more than to have it released. It's becoming increasingly harder to ignore.

As the Noah's digits begin to move faster, the young woman can feel the ball of need inside of her build up to startling proportions, making her cry out at regular intervals and writhe in the gray man's hold. She can feel her end; it's so close, and all of her self-hatred and shame and humiliation becomes so obscure and far away, lost amidst the impending horizon of release—

And they all come rushing back as, quite suddenly, Tyki removes his fingers from her.

Allen draws in a deep gasp as she is left hovering on the edge of her merciful end, her womanhood pulsing in unfinished need. She focuses on Tyki, who is smirking lightheartedly at her as his fingers trace her throbbing entrance, teasing her with small shivers of pleasure but not nearly enough to satiate the young woman.

"Tyki," she says in a gasp. _Why has he stopped? What is he going to do?_

"Not right now, girl," he responds, his voice tickling against her ear. "Together, this time."

_What is he talking about?_

Tyki's hand suddenly leaves her dripping folds and grabs her right wrist instead. He lifts up her arm so that it is angled backwards, with her hand hovering right beside his head.

"Hold on," he says in a soothing voice. He positions her hand at the back of his head so that she can grasp his ebony locks. "If you slip, you'll hit your head."

Her fingers grasp his curly hair, holding onto the mass of soft waves as one of his own hands reaches between their bodies. Allen releases a small whine as she realizes what it is he's doing. The hand that is clutching her to him constricts as she squirms against him in an attempt to escape, rubbing against his now-unclothed chest. He must have shed his clothes at some point using his Noah power.

"Shhhh," he hushes her as his hidden hand returns, running through her hair in what Allen supposes is intended to be a soothing gesture. "It won't hurt like the first time, girl. I promise."

He shifts behind her, and Allen stiffens, her hand grasping his dark hair tighter in panic as she feels something prodding against her entrance from behind.

Without another word, he sinks into her.

Her first thought is, _He's right_. Her second is a word too unsavory to be spoken aloud. So instead, she gasps loudly into the open air, the sound torn out of her throat by Tyki's sudden thrust.

And it does feel different than the first time. Very much so, in fact. There is no pain this time, merely the sensation of being stretched very wide, full of something hot and warm that permeates her very bones. And to Allen's eternal shame, it is the opposite of unpleasant.

Tyki starts out slow and gentle, firmly moving in and out in a rhythm that pulls the young woman's nerves taut with desire. Allen gives a tiny gasp with each thrust, letting out breathy sighs that ghost across Tyki's face due to their close proximity. The whole time he is inside her, their heads are pressed close together, with Allen's hand gripping the Noah's hair just a bit more tightly every time he sinks into her. Searing pleasure courses through her as he begins to speed up, forcing the white-haired girl to hold his hair even tighter. Tyki growls as she gives a particularly violent tug—though it really is accidental—and draws back, slamming into her fairly harshly.

The sudden thrust hits something inside of Allen that makes her cry out brokenly and arch her back; tingles of ecstasy begin to build up in her blood. Tyki laves an open-mouthed kiss on her shoulder, and one of his hands creeps up to latch onto her right breast, eagerly flicking the taut peak. He keeps his new angle, making sure to hit her in the same spot every time from now on.

"Come on, girl," he says into the back of her ear. "I'm waiting for you." For the first time, Allen notices, Tyki sounds like he's strained. Is he trying to stave off his own release for her? Why?

Out of nowhere, she feels a hand reach down and slide against her stomach, moving between her thighs to rest a finger against her swollen nub. He starts to rub her there, giving her that last push into near-incoherency.

" _Tyki_ ," she calls out, surprised by his actions but not able to properly verbalize it.

Then, the disheveled man behind her does something she never would have expected.

" _Allen_ ," he gasps against her ear, gripping her tighter as his thrusts speed up, becoming shorter and more intense. She continues to cry out ambiguous noises, some of them moans of pleasure, some of them wails of dismay. But all the same, despite the ever-present tears glistening on her cheek, Allen feels the creeping tendrils of ecstasy that tell of her impending release.

As the white-haired girl feels the onset of throbbing in her womanhood, Tyki surprises her yet again.

He reaches around and pulls Allen's face towards his own, connecting their lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

And then, bliss washes over the both of them. She cries out into his mouth, breaking the kiss with her moan of completion. Tyki keeps their foreheads pressed together as she stiffens in his grasp, her limbs shaking in the midst of her orgasm.

"Allen," he says softly as waves of euphoria crash over her, leaving her body quaking and sapped of energy. He holds her in his grasp for what feels like forever to the white-haired girl, and she allows her eyes to slide closed as she leans back against his chest. She's exhausted—absolutely exhausted, to the point where even the prospect of falling asleep in the bathtub with Tyki Mikk is looking acceptable.

And there's another reason for that, as well.

She knows what she had seen earlier, and she could definitely see how… _abnormal_ the man is acting. He is all but cradling her in his arms, holding her close as if she is a lover rather than a prisoner. He had called her by her first name—Allen—multiple times, an act which he did not do often, if ever.

And those emotions in his eyes…

When she had told him that the baby died, he had been angry. When she had given him her uncertain answer, he had looked hurt for a moment—the flash of pain in his golden eyes had been a sure indication of that. When he had taken her just now, he had been fairly gentle, gazing at her with an expression that she can only describe as… _tender_.

She doesn't know what else to call it.

She is now as confused as she is miserable, and this is the only thought that allows her to close her eyes and drift off in the arms of the man who is now the object of her curiosity. He is so because, for a few brief moments amidst the maelstrom of activities that had just taken place, Tyki Mikk had looked almost…human.

* * *

It had already been a few days since Komui's pledge, and Kanda is dangerously close to storming into the psycho's office and simply demanding that he find a solution. He doesn't expect the ruffled man to move faster because of his threat, but he _does_ believe that it would help to ease some of his mounting frustration.

But that idea still doesn't sound nearly as cathartic as using Mugen's blade to slice up a certain Noah, which is why the dark-haired man is currently in his favored dojo, sparring with the future Bookman. He is training his body and his mind, channeling his anger into the goal of becoming even stronger. He already knows that he has improved drastically in strength, but it's still not enough to kill a Noah, apparently.

So this is his plan: Komui will find a way to get onto the Ark—upon pain of death should he fail to do so—and Kanda will be ready when he does.

With the practiced grace and fluidity of his body, the samurai dives at his opponent.

He had been sparring Lavi (for a lack of other options, since Lenalee is busy assisting her brother) for what had probably been hours already, but Kanda Yuu does not want to stop. Training, even with the baka usagi, is better than doing so by himself. He doesn't want to waste any time.

When he goes to get the Moyashi back, he's going to be ready. He's sure as hell not planning on losing this fight.

"Hey, Yuu! Time out, okay?!" yells the redhead who's pinned on the ground with an arm twisted behind his back. "We've been at this for hours! I need to eat, too."

The Japanese man scoffs derisively at him, but lets him stand back up regardless.

"Thanks, Yuu," Lavi says gratefully as he stands up, stretching his sore arm out behind his back.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?!" Kanda snaps irritably, more on edge than usual as of late. For obvious reasons, of course.

"Whoa, calm down. Let's just go get something to eat in the cafeteria, yeah?"

Kanda grunts, which the redhead seems to take as a sign of confirmation. He tries to drape his arm across the swordsman's shoulders in a sort of brotherly embrace the whole walk there, but Kanda shrugs him off every time.

* * *

Kanda soon finds that sitting in the cafeteria is maddening, as usual, but not unbearable. He orders a bowl of soba noodles after Lavi gets his own food, and the redhead surveys the renovated dining hall for an empty seat. The samurai is mildly surprised to see Lenalee sitting at a table by herself, looking forlornly detached from the idle chatter of the people around her.

The dark-haired man frowns as Lavi begins walking over to her, but he follows nonetheless. The redhead takes the seat beside the short-haired girl, while Kanda sits himself across from the both of them. Lenalee tries to give both males a small smile, but it ends up looking more pained than anything else. Her purple eyes are filled with unshed tears that have been present since the latest attack—and the Moyashi's capture.

"Hey, guys," she whispers, her voice almost lost to the din and clatter of silverware around her.

"Hey, Lena," Lavi responds in kind, his hand finding hers underneath the table so that no one can see—except, of course, for Kanda.

The samurai nods at his female comrade's greeting, and then proceeds to dig into his food. Lavi does the same—though his left hand doesn't leave Lenalee's.

The short-haired girl isn't eating anything, he notices, and after a few minutes of mundane chewing, to Kanda's utter dismay, she begins to tell them what's on her mind.

"Do you think…" She trails off, letting her words hang in the air around them for a moment. "What do you think they're doing to Allen-chan? If…if she had gotten away, she would have come back by now. Komui says that he's pretty sure she isn't dead, and that her Innocence hasn't been destroyed, according to Hevlaska. So…what are they doing to her? Why did they take her? For information?"

Kanda freezes with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, allowing his noodles to slink back into the bowl beneath his chin. His fists clench, almost breaking the delicate sticks of wood that are perched between his fingers.

He doesn't want to think about what they're doing to the Moyashi. If Tyki's words are the least bit reliable, then thinking about what could be happening to the short exorcist would only throw Kanda into a relentless fury. He shouldn't think about it. He shouldn't think about all of the possible ways that the Earl and the Noah could be torturing her, trying to gain information on the Order.

And he especially shouldn't be thinking about the recurring dream he had been having about her and the curly-haired Noah. He tries to avoid thinking about it at all, unless he's training and he needs an extra boost to defeat his opponent. He doesn't want to picture the image of the Moyashi being violated while he's eating—at all, in fact—or he just might throw up.

"Lenalee," Lavi says gently. "I'm sure Allen's fine. She can take care of herself. You really should eat something, instead of making yourself worried and sick." For once, the samurai thinks with distaste, he agrees with the redhead.

"I _have_ eaten," Lenalee objects, staring daggers at both of them. "And how can I _not_ worry, Lavi? Allen-chan's my best friend, and she's in a lot of danger!"

"No one's telling you not to worry," Kanda interjects in a gruff voice. "Just stop being so stupid about it."

Lenalee ignores Lavi's offended cry of "Yuu!" Instead, she offers a small smile to her long-time friend. "Thank you, Kanda, but I'm _fine_."

He opens his mouth as if to disagree with her, but snaps it shut again quickly. What else is he going to say, really? He isn't in a position to be making any judgments.

" _Hey, guys_!" a nasally voice calls from some distance away. The three exorcists at the table turn towards the direction of the double doors, only to see a very out-of-breath Johnny scampering over to their table.

"Lenalee! Lavi! Kanda!" he puffs out, his hands bracing himself on his knees. "Come quick! There's s-someone here that you should see!"

The trio doesn't need to be told twice. Abandoning Lavi and Kanda's meals on the table, the four of them fast-walk out of the cafeteria at a brisk pace, the echoes of their tapping feet the only noise to be heard up and down the hallways.

"What's going on, Johnny?" Lenalee cuts in, addressing the short scientist. "Who's here?"

The man runs his mouth as the group of four continues to walk. "He just showed up completely out of the blue! I'm not even sure if he knows what happened here recently, but Reever told me that this is going to cause an uproar in Central Agency. I believe it, too." The short man manages to break a sweat as the four of them arrive at the entrance hall.

Komui can be seen off in the distance, standing at the doors and greeting a familiar silhouette. The samurai's eye catches a gleam of gold as Timcanpy flutters above the men's heads. As Kanda processes what is standing right in front of him, he hears Lavi mutter "Damn" under his breath.

Lenalee lets out a startled gasp. "General Cross," the Chinese girl whispers, disbelief in her small voice.

At the sound of his name, the unflappable man of legend ( _and trouble_ , Kanda thinks) steps past Komui, his exposed eye raking over the newcomers with undisguised condescension.

"Ah, I see that you lot are all here," he says to the three other exorcists in the room, who are all staring numbly with skeptical expressions. He pats his wild hair down with a noncommittal grunt. "Now, do any of you care to tell me the whereabouts of my idiot apprentice? Timcanpy seems to be quite concerned."


	12. A Type of Insanity

"Now, do any of you care to tell me the whereabouts of my idiot apprentice? Timcanpy seems to be quite concerned," the red-haired man drawls out, his eyes coming to rest on the three exorcists who had just entered the hall.

Though Lenalee and Lavi show it more than Kanda, being the stoic person he is, all three of them feel their insides turn to ice. Kanda even sees Lenalee blanch out of the corner of his eye, and is able to hear Lavi take a deep gulp of air.

Clearly, no one wants to tell Cross what had happened to his apprentice in his absence; especially not Komui, who is now doing an extremely accurate portrayal of a man drowning on dry land.

"Hmmm…" Cross grumbles, lighting his cigarette with a bored expression as Timcanpy flutters insistently around his head. "I see that all of you have lost your voices. I expected nothing less from Tiedoll and Bookman's apprentices. But what about you, Lenalee?"

Said girl flushes heavily under the older man's scrutiny, an action uncharacteristic of her and one that, Kanda quickly realizes, only serves to heighten Cross's perception of something being amiss.

"What about me, General?" she asks nervously, her hands fisting the material of her coat.

"From what Komui tells me, you and my apprentice are very close. I thought you, of all people, would be able to tell me where to find her."

Komui starts sweating anxiously, trying desperately to ignore the heated glare of his sister. As she returns her attention to the General, however, her gaze once again becomes saddened, weighed down by something far heavier than the clothes on her back. Her violet eyes have turned narrow with stress.

"I'm sorry, General Cross," the Chinese girl utters in a subdued voice. "Allen-chan's…not here."

"Hmm…" the man says as he takes another drag. "My first guess would be that she went on a mission, but judging from the way all of you are staring at me and the way you've just spoken, Lenalee, it sounds as though she's died. Tell me—did my apprentice get herself into trouble again?"

"We shouldn't talk about this here," Komui interjects suddenly as he waves Cross's cigarette smoke out of his face. "Come to my office, General. I'll fill you in on what's happened since we last heard from you."

The two men saunter past the four people who are still standing by the doorway. Just as Kanda and Lenalee make to follow them, with Lavi and Johnny close behind, they find their way blocked by an arm clad in a white coat.

" _Without_ you four present," Komui emphasizes, shooting a knowing look at all of them.

"What about me?" Lavi asks hopefully. "For my records and such."

Komui juts his lip out stubbornly. "You already know what happened, Lavi. You don't need to listen in on our conversation. I'm not a complete idiot!"

"You're pretty close," Kanda murmurs irritably.

"That's enough backtalk, you two!" The purple-haired man tries—and fails—to appear intimidating, though the two exorcists end up backing down regardless. They can force their way inside the Chief's office, but they can't force the two of them to talk in their presence; it's a lost cause.

Even Johnny looks somewhat disappointed as the pair heads toward the Chief's office, but he breaks into a devious grin as soon as Komui and Cross turn a corner.

"What are you smiling about?" Lavi asks the short scientist curiously, unmarred suspicion in his voice. "Now we won't be able to hear what they're saying! I'm the future Bookman, and even I'm not allowed in!"

"Ah, but we can still hear it!" Johnny tells the redhead eagerly, his hands fisting in restrained excitement. "Tapp and I planted a listening device in the Chief's desk!"

Lenalee gasps, her expression aghast. "You did? _Why_?"

The scientist flushes, pushing his glasses back to rest on the bridge of his nose. "Well, the truth is…Reever, Tapp and I were getting pretty tired of the Chief skipping out on his duties and dumping his work on us—we can only work for twenty-four hours a day, after all, and—"

"Get to the point." A muscle twitches in Kanda's jaw, and the tell-tale vein in his forehead throbs angrily.

"Right. So we wanted to see what he was doing instead of doing his actual work, so we planted a device in his desk that feeds the recording to a special surveillance golem."

Lavi's eye brightens, and even Lenalee seems guiltily intrigued by this new development. "Well, what are we waiting for?" the redhead asks. "Let's go!"

Johnny pales, stuttering as he leads the three worried (and one nearly homicidal) exorcists to his room. The dark-haired samurai thinks idly that they've probably made it in record time, seeing as Johnny's room is nearly on the opposite side of where they just were. Once there, Johnny takes what appears to be a large, fancy golem out of his dresser, then flips a few switches to turn it on. The odd contraption flickers to life, flapping its spindly wings as it hovers in front of them. The closed eyelid on its body flips open to reveal an eerie eye with a large pupil, from which a projected image emerges above Kanda's head.

As the brooding man watches with rapt attention, two figures become distinguishable in the hologram: Komui and General Cross. They're both sitting at the Chief's desk, Komui with his hands folded neatly on the table, while Cross simply reclines in his chair with one leg draped over the other. Both men are quiet, as silent as death, until the imposing General asks the question that Komui had promised to answer a few minutes prior.

"So, Chief," he says, a sardonic tone to his voice. "Just where is my apprentice, if she isn't here? Still causing trouble?"

"Not quite, General," Komui responds heavily, his brow furrowed with concern and stress. "In fact, Allen seems to be a target for trouble, rather than its cause."

"As usual."

There is a heavy pause, one that Kanda knows Komui is taking advantage of because he doesn't know how to phrase his next words.

"Oh, nii-san…" Lenalee breathes out sadly, her hand clutched over her heart.

Evidently, Cross does not appreciate the suspense. "As you can probably tell, Chief Komui, I'm not really a fan of riddles. I prefer to be told things outright. If you lie to me, I may just have to use my Judgment on you."

For the life of him, Kanda cannot tell if the man is joking or not; his face begets a small smile of humor, and though there is no trace of anger or hostility in his countenance, neither is there patience or amicable regard. There is a small twinge of annoyance in his eyebrow, however; Kanda feels much the same himself. Being around Lenalee's neurotic older brother tends to do that to everyone.

Beyond this, there is nothing about Cross Marian's emotional state that he can decipher.

"Of course, General," Komui says, taken aback by the other man's "threat." "Less than two weeks ago, we were attacked here at Headquarters by a Noah, and the Ark was retaken by two other Noah at the Asian Branch. In the battles, many Finders and scientists were killed or injured, as were the exorcists Lenalee Lee, Kanda Yuu, and Bookman's apprentice, Lavi." The purple-haired man takes a brief pause, breathing deeply before continuing. "In addition, the exorcist Allen Walker, who had recently recovered her Innocence after her anti-Akuma weapon had been destroyed by a Noah, engaged in battle with the same Noah—Tyki Mikk—who also happened to be the one staging the attack on Headquarters. According to testimony from Kanda himself, who also attempted to fight off the Noah and was impaled in the process, Allen was knocked unconscious and taken away with the Ark. She has not been seen or heard from since, though we have evidence to suggest that her Innocence is still alive, and therefore her as well."

As Komui tells the story, Kanda feels familiar pangs in his chest at all the appropriate parts. A blunt reminder of what had happened and his own failure in the situation is enough to cause a dark cloud to settle over the man; his scowl deepens, but softens as the Chief finishes his recap. The samurai's bout of moodiness is pushed aside for the moment as all four of the people listening to the conversation wait with bated breath for Cross's response.

But, surprisingly enough, said reaction is almost imperceptible to their eyes. It even takes Kanda a moment to see it, but when he does, it only serves to befuddle him further.

A shadow—not even that, more like a flicker—falls across the man's eyes, hidden expertly behind his glasses. One might even believe it were a trick of the light unless they looked hard enough.

Because if there's one thing anyone knows about General Cross Marian, it's that he doesn't get caught off guard by anything. On the contrary, unless Kanda's mistaken, he's usually the one catching others off guard.

But for once, the tables are turned. Cross actually looks surprised, taken aback by the fact that his apprentice has gone missing.

Before the samurai has the chance to look further into Cross's reaction, however, the spell is broken, and the redheaded General goes back to looking just as he had before Komui had broken the news: like his normal, aloof, and even somewhat apathetic self.

An awkward hush had fallen over the room in the time that he and Komui hadn't been speaking, but that doesn't stop Cross from regaining his former visage of grandeur. "She's missing, is she?" he mutters aloud, as if he is talking to himself. Timcanpy flutters around his head faster now, the golden golem acting almost as if he's concerned about his master. "Settle down, Tim. So it's true, then," he says, this time to Komui. "I was wondering why Tim was acting so strange when he found me." He reclines farther back in his chair, placing his feet up on Komui's desk as he does so. "So, Chief Komui, what are you doing to find her?"

Needless to say, the Chinese man is more than taken off guard by Cross's blunt inquiry, and struggles to force an answer out.

"Well, you see, the scientists and I have been working tirelessly to find a way to get onto the Ark in order to stage a rescue mission, but so far, we haven't found anything promising. Since the Ark first arrived here, we noticed that we've been finding traces of an unknown substance in the general area where the gate had been. Apparently, as the Ark enters our dimensional plane, the gate that forms seems to radiate these subatomic particles. They're starting to fade now that the Ark is gone, but we've managed to save a few. The theory—or hope, I should say—is that we'll be able to somehow manipulate the particles in order to create our own gate to the Ark. So far, unfortunately, we've had no luck in replicating or manipulating them—"

"Spare me the complicated scientific dribble," Cross interrupts, flicking the ash from his cigarette onto Komui's carpet (the parts of it that aren't covered in flammable paper, hopefully). "Basically, what you're telling me is that you haven't found anything, right?"

The ruffled scientist looks more like a deer caught in headlights than the Chief of the Black Order Headquarters. "Well, no, not yet."

"So my apprentice is on her own?"

"…Yes. For now."

The redheaded man sighs dramatically, scratching his head with one hand while the other puts his cigarette out on Komui's desk. "Then it looks as though I'll be staying here with you at Headquarters for the time being. I'd rather shave my head than come back here, but I suppose I'll have to deal with the lack of women and good booze for now. I came here with the intent of speaking to my apprentice, and that is exactly what I plan to do."

"Right…" Komui agrees unenthusiastically. "So, you don't believe she's been harmed, then?"

Cross raises an eyebrow. "I don't know about you, Chief, but I trained Allen myself. She's with the Noah; it's practically a given that she'll be tortured and interrogated. However, I believe that my apprentice can take care of herself. I also know that Allen is going to want to see me again at some point; she'll find her way back even if you can't help her." The General stretches his arms out above his head, a pensive look on his face. "So I'm just going to wait for her here. I hope the Order's gotten more hospitable since I last stayed here, Komui. Is my old room still available?"

The image floating above Kanda's head flickers for a moment, then goes out completely, leaving the four of them sitting in a silent room. None of them say anything for a while; they are all trying to process the conversation that they had just eavesdropped on.

Lenalee is the first to regain her bearings.

"That was…strange," she observes. "It was almost like he didn't even care—or, at least, he was trying to act like he didn't."

"No, that's not it," Lavi chimes in, a finger over his mouth as he thinks. "It's more like…like he doesn't really want to say what he's thinking. I wonder…does he know something that he's not telling us? Something we don't?"

Secretly, Kanda finds himself agreeing with the both of them. Though Cross had done a stellar job of masking any possible inner turmoil that he may have harbored, the samurai still finds himself skeptical for a few reasons.

For one thing, he estimates that the General will last two days in this place before hightailing it out of here; after all, why offer to stay in a place you despise if being there won't change anything?

And second…well, he simply doesn't trust Cross. Kanda has a difficult time trusting anyone completely, and it is this trait that allows him to form one conclusion that stands out among all the others.

Cross Marian is hiding something.

* * *

Two weeks.

Two fucking weeks, and Komui still hasn't found a way to get onto Noah's Ark.

Not only that, but Kanda still can't comprehend the nature of Cross Marian. From the instant the famed and perpetually absent General had set foot back inside the Black Order, he had been as mysterious as could be. He had only taken meals in his room, choosing not to go to the cafeteria and sit in the company of people whom he had deemed, in his own words, to be "thankless bores." He had already ran most of the Finders ragged, forcing some of the newbies and kiss-asses to make runs into the closest town for the express purpose of purchasing the most expensive alcohol he could conceive of. Every time the General had passed by Lavi and Lenalee, or Kanda and Lenalee (or, on even rarer occasions, Lavi and Kanda), he had turned up his nose at them. However, if Lenalee happens to be walking by herself, as Kanda had already seen once, Cross will take the time to sneak a glance at her behind.

The way things are going, Kanda's not only going to rip his own hair out; he's going to rip the General's out along with it.

And it's not even the man's atrocious behavior that's the root cause of the dark-haired man's deep-seated ire. It's the _circumstances_ under which he performs his atrocious behavior. His apprentice is missing, after all. If _he_ had gone missing, Kanda knows for a fact that Tiedoll would have enlisted the help of all the Finders, the exorcists, and the scientists in order to find him (right after crying a literal river of tears, of course). If he isn't dead, Tiedoll will try to find him.

But not Cross. He's acting like nothing's happened, as though his apprentice _hasn't_ been taken prisoner by the Order's mortal enemies. Like she might not be chained up somewhere right now, being fed moldy bread and slowly tortured both mentally and physically by the Noah. Like she might not be hanging from her thumbs in a dungeon, or having her last shreds of dignity torn away by the person who had already destroyed her Innocence once.

Like she might not be in pain, silently pleading for help from the one person who couldn't give that to her when she needed it most.

It goes without saying that Kanda hasn't been sleeping well lately.

As the dark-haired man strides down the hallway angrily, he recalls the one moment that the infamous redhead had shown even a flicker of surprise. Kanda knows, he _knows,_ that Cross is hiding something. He has to be. It's in the way he moves, so self-assured and almost taunting. It's in his one visible eye, written in it as he surveys his surroundings with keen judgment.

And Kanda is sick and tired of doing nothing about it.

* * *

How long has it been now since she's seen the outside world? Felt the gentle caress of the sun on her face, or the passing breeze of a windy day? Since she's felt basically anything other than anxiety or trepidation, just waiting for her captors to come back?

Allen can't begin to guess. The days have simply begun to pass her by with mundane repetition, each one bringing more of the same and less of the old as time slips away from her. All the white-haired girl has to occupy her massive amount of free time is Neah's unconventional companionship. As long as Tyki isn't here, that is; the only human contact she has had besides Neah (and she isn't even sure if that qualifies as "human") is the Noah of Pleasure. Ever since the first day he had brought her to his room, none of the other Noah, or even the Earl, have come by to see her. And, most of the time, Tyki isn't even here. The solitude would be enough to drive anyone else insane, Allen thinks, but she isn't going to be beaten so easily.

Maybe that's his plan: to slowly drive the young woman to madness by leaving her alone in his room for hours on end; to allow her to fester in the never-ending silence.

Her days have become predictable. Every morning she wakes up in his bed alone, since he always gets up before her. Like clockwork, he arrives a few minutes later, brandishing a plate of some sort of breakfast delicacy: French toast with maple syrup and fried ham; an omelet with red onions and broccoli. One time, he even brought her buttermilk pancakes with high-quality churned Irish butter.

And every time, she eats in silence, staunchly refusing to thank him or even acknowledge the fact that he's brought her food. After a while, she'll crawl back under the covers and turn her back to him, not even sparing the Noah another glance. Not long after, he leaves, and the cycle repeats itself in much the same way for lunch and dinner.

Actually, it's a little different for dinner. After she eats, she bathes (with him still in the room, of course). Then, with her anxiety high, she's forced to climb into the same bed as him. She always turns her back to him, scooting as close to the edge of the mattress as is humanly possible. He doesn't say anything, merely watches her until he, too, lies down and goes to sleep. Even so, she can still sense his eyes on her, boring a hole in her back until she's called into a fitful sleep.

He never sleeps in front of her. He always falls asleep after, and wakes up before she does. She's beginning to think that he's drugging her food in order to make sure she doesn't awaken during the night, but she can't exactly call him on it. It's either that or starve, and the Earl has made it clear that he isn't going to let that happen.

And then the day repeats itself.

It's during the long periods of silence and isolation that Allen begins to reconsider the possibility of escape, and so she begins to take advantage of the mockery of privacy. She does one-handed push-ups and shadow sparring in the empty space provided by Tyki's room. She thinks idly that maybe, just maybe, this exercise will boost her morale and allow her to become strong enough not to completely fight off Tyki's advances, but at least make it too troublesome for him to want to try anything.

But strangely enough, he hasn't tried to force himself on her once since that night. This, if nothing else, triggers Allen's suspicions, as does his suddenly docile behavior.

So she trains harder.

 **"Are you planning to escape, Allen?"** Neah asks her out of the blue as she completes her third set of push-ups for that day. **"Do you have a plan to remove the bracelet, or is this exercise some form of self-discipline?"**

 _I'm not stupid. I know I haven't got a chance of escaping the way I am, and I know that you said you wanted to work together_ , the young woman responds as she stretches her arms out above her head. _So I'm biding my time until that happens. I'm tired of feeling weak and useless. I don't want to lose all of my strength._

**"A wise decision, if a bit hopeful. Don't let yourself be lost to the darkness. Continue to bide your time for a while longer, and eventually we'll escape this place."**

_Right._ If anything, she thinks, she's starting to lose herself to confusion. It's not just Tyki's strangely gentle behavior that's getting to her; it's the implications of that behavior. For as long as she's known him, Allen has seen the Noah of Pleasure as a foe, a sadistic pervert bound for the darkest depths of Hell.

But now, every time he comes to see her, he seems more and more human. He doesn't push her to talk; he doesn't touch her, unless it's to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face or to trail a hand down her arm as she pretends to sleep.

And the white-haired girl can't help but to ask herself why.

The gentle _creak_ of the door opening grabs her attention, and she feels Neah slip away before the visitor enters. Unsurprisingly, it's Tyki, once again balancing a platter of delicious-smelling lunch and a glass of water.

Wordlessly, he sets the tray down on the table beside the bed, meeting Allen's eyes from across the room. As silver eyes meet gold, the white-haired girl frowns. He seems different today, more on edge than he's been for the past few days (or weeks; she can't be sure at this point how long it's been).

What is that look she keeps seeing in his eyes? He seems as though he wants something. Maybe—

"What are you staring at, girl?" he says snarkily. "Do I look that ravishing today?"

 _Or maybe he's just back to normal,_ Allen thinks with a sigh, walking around the bed and taking a seat. She picks up the silverware he has provided her with, and cuts into the sausage he's brought for her. As she begins to eat, she remains mindful of his eyes on her the entire time. Even after she finishes her meal, the two continue to sit in silence, with Tyki lounging in the chair he's brought over to her side of the bed.

She can still feel his eyes on her, and wonders exactly what's going on inside his head. Is he acting this way to confuse her? To try to win her favor or convince her that he's not the bad guy she thinks he is? It's a little too late for that; doesn't he understand the extent of all the things he's done to her and her friends?

But what other reason could he possibly have to be acting so… _nice_ to her? And what about that look he'd given her the last time he had taken her, in the bathroom? What reason could there be to explain that level of intimacy and frank openness? For a moment…she had almost forgotten that he's a Noah.

And it is this dangerous thought, coupled with the wave of guilt and denial that it incites, that causes her to utter her next words.

"I won't help you," she whispers, so quietly that Tyki has to lean over in his chair to hear her.

"Pardon?"

She meets his gaze dead-on, her silver orbs hardened by time and what feels like an eternity of built-up resolve.

"I said that I won't help you. No matter how nice you act towards me." She turns her eyes towards the wall, her back rigid. "I won't give you any information on the Order. I'll never betray my friends and family. You'll have to kill me first."

As she finishes her speech, Allen feels the coil of apprehension in her stomach unwind. She hadn't been certain about voicing her feelings before, being much too befuddled by Tyki's strange behavior to think straight much of the time. The only thing she's still certain of is her own undying loyalty to the only place she's ever been able to call home.

And admitting her feelings to the man who is holding her captive only serves to reinforce this fact, reigniting the spark of ferocity that had seemed to be largely gone. With bated breath, she awaits Tyki's response. To her surprise, she finds that she _wants_ him to be angry with her, to become enraged or even just a little frustrated. She wants him to do something to show her that he is put off by her refusal to cooperate, to reveal his lying façade for what it truly is. She wants him to know that his plan isn't working, that she won't be appeased or taken in by anyone—especially a Noah who is working for the Earl.

A pair of warm lips being pressed against her own is enough to make her freeze in her tracks. Her eyes pop wide open as she finds herself staring at Tyki, who is now far closer to her than he had been only a few seconds prior. His lips feel warm and soft on her own, and she is far too shocked to do anything but stare into his closed eyelids. His hands caress her face and her hair, leaving the aftermath of a burning sensation wherever their skin touches.

She doesn't kiss him back.

When he pulls away, he doesn't say anything. His eyes remain on her stiff form until she hears the _click_ that signifies that the door has been closed.

Hesitantly, Allen's fingers reach up and trace her lips, running over them as softly as he had. She doesn't know what to think; she tells him all of that, and _this_ is all he does? He had kissed her more chastely than ever before, while she had been expecting violence in some form, verbal or otherwise.

For the millionth time, the white-haired girl marvels at what could possibly be going on inside Tyki's head.

* * *

Even an hour later, these thoughts plague her continuously, growing more and more frequent and fraying on her last nerves as time flies relentlessly past her. Completely absorbed by the hidden agenda she is sure lies behind Tyki's actions, Allen finds it problematic to focus on her training. Instead, she paces restlessly around the room, fiddles with her hands, and bites her lip to the point of drawing blood.

Just why hadn't he reacted to her provocation in the way she had come to expect? He knows by this point that he isn't succeeding in endearing himself to her by being polite; she had made that abundantly clear with her response.

So why didn't he take her bait?

"Ah, I see! So _you're_ the young woman my brother seems to have become so taken with."

The white-haired girl jumps at the sound of a man's voice, immediately whipping around to stare daggers at the intruder.

She frowns as she sees the man who has just entered unannounced. He has long, wavy hair that is pulled back and slicked behind his shoulders. He's sporting a monocle as well, the concave lens of which magnifies the mischievous glint in his eye. And, to Allen's discomfort, there is something about his features that is hauntingly familiar.

"Who are you?" she asks with force, trying not to appear as intimidated as she feels by the man's menacing aura.

He arches a regal eyebrow at her, the bizarre smile not leaving his eyes. "Didn't I just tell you? Tyki is my dear little brother."

Allen's mouth falls open. "You're…his _brother_?" She hadn't even known that her captor _has_ a brother, not to mention the fact that he's a Noah as well. But now that he's told her, the resemblance between he and the Noah of Pleasure is quite pronounced, from the shade and shine of their hair to the elegant planes of their facial structures.

"Yes, my dear. Though I am surprised—and hurt—that he didn't tell you about me." He gives her a small bow. "Minister Sheril Camelot. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Walker."

"Minister?" she echoes, the title rattling around in her head. A Noah who is so high up in society as to be a minister? How did this happen? Or had he already been a minister before he had awakened?

"But my life," he continues on as if she had not spoken, "though comfortable and highly enjoyable, is not my prime interest at the moment. I am much more interested in meeting the young woman my darling brother has become so enamored with."

Allen's eyes have turned to slits; now more than ever, she is suspicious of the man's intentions. "What are you talking about?"

"Why, exactly what I just said!" Sheril explains enthusiastically. His eyes sparkle with vivacious wonder. "I am understandably curious about you. My little brother has refused to allow anyone else to see you. Mind you, the Earl hasn't said a thing against him. It's quite frustrating." He claps his hands together, his face taking on a dreamy expression. "Oh, how I've wanted to meet the young woman who has taken up so much of Tyki's time! And I must say, you are quite a beauty; I see why he is so possessive of you. Now then, would you do me the courtesy of introducing yourself properly?"

Allen is officially freaked out. This man seems to be under the impression that she's more of an honored guest than a prisoner. It's disturbing, and quite frankly, she already has enough on her mind.

"No, thank you," she says in a clipped tone. "Please leave." She turns her back to the Noah, fully intent on going back to her previous activity of pacing mindlessly around the room.

But, to the white-haired girl's confusion, she finds that she cannot move her body.

Her brows furrow, and she stares down at her unmoving limbs.

_What is going on?_

She tries once again to will her muscles to move, but nothing happens. She looks back up at Sheril, who is holding his hand as if beckoning her closer. Her skin prickles with unease, especially now that she has been rendered immobile.

"What did you do?" she asks him, and he grins at her cheerfully.

"I must tell you, I was hoping that Tyki would pick a woman with some degree of manners. It seems that, as usual, I got my hopes up. I should have realized that he would choose a woman with an overabundance of sass. You suit him well. It was my mistake, but you were still very rude just now. A small amount of coercion is necessary, I'm afraid." Slowly, Sheril bends one of his fingers, creating a _come hither_ motion with his hand.

And, to Allen's horror, her body responds without her consent. One of her feet takes a hesitant step forward, and the other foot soon follows. Her body is moving completely on its own, in accordance with the subtle twitches of Sheril's fingers. She moves forward until she is standing before him, and he shoots her a demented smile.

"I bowed to you, Miss Walker. I feel that it is only fair that you do me the same courtesy." He gestures downwards with his fingers, and Allen finds her knees bending and her back arching slightly until she is facing the floor, in a mockery of a perfect curtsy.

Her face is burning with humiliation at this point, and she is so absorbed in her shame that she doesn't hear someone else enter the room until he speaks.

"Sheril," Tyki says from the doorway.


	13. A Breaking of Spirit

Even the shadows are smart enough to shrink back in response to the imposing stature of one Kanda Yuu, who is marching down the halls of the Black Order. He stalks angrily down the darkened hallway, his narrowed eyes and tersely drawn lips giving the impression that he is simply letting off steam—despite the fact that he knows exactly where he is going. After all, those who know him are aware of the fact that Kanda doesn't usually do things for no reason; no, his time is much more valuable than that.

He's going to see General Cross Marian. He had waited far too long to do so. True, he had wanted to talk with the famed General since the man's rather anticlimactic arrival back at Headquarters. However, Kanda had never received an opportunity for a private moment with the redheaded man. It seems that Komui—the _bastard_ , Kanda thinks—had recruited some finders to be on Cross's tail throughout the man's daily activities. The time the "servants" spend catering to Cross is just short of smothering, but Kanda knows it will be much worse once Central gets wind of the man's reappearance.

Add in the sheer amount of time that Kanda spends training, as well as the week-long mission to Germany that he had been sent on only a few days after the General's arrival, and it becomes easy to see why the Japanese man keeps missing his chance to see the Moyashi's mentor.

But right now, it's nighttime, and Kanda is finally going to confront the red-haired General.

He takes a right turn at the end of the hall, and continues down that way until he arrives before a large old door. It's surprisingly regal and refined, and it would look new if it were not for the seventy layers of dust that have coagulated on the chestnut surface. Clearly, this room hasn't been cleaned properly in a long while. It's not shocking, considering the awful memories most Order members must have of the man who resides in it. Emotional trauma alone would keep them from entering it.

In the brief time it takes for the samurai to deduce that no one else is around, he raises his clenched fist to knock on the door. But before he has the chance to do so, he registers a low, husky sound emanating from inside the room.

"You can come in," a muffled, masculine voice tells him. Kanda freezes in his tracks, caught off guard by the sound of Cross's voice. He had thought that he's hiding his presence fairly well, but now he's starting to second-guess himself. His footsteps are perfectly soundless, yet Cross had still somehow heard him coming.

Because of this, the long-haired swordsman hesitates.

"I know it's you, Kanda," Cross explains, sounding more exasperated than anything else. "Come in. I won't kill you just yet. It's unlocked, boy."

His "joke" doesn't reassure Kanda in the slightest. With narrowed eyes, the suspicious man opens the door, shivering at the sensation of rust rubbing off on his hand from the ancient doorknob. He isn't surprised by what he sees when he goes inside, but he finds it tactless nonetheless.

The man is reclining lazily on a large couch, with several bottles of fine wine lying scattered across the room. Empty ones lie on the floor and knocked over onto the glass table, but many others that are full or half-full lie clustered around the two wineglasses. One of the fancy goblets is empty, while the other is only filled up halfway, with lip and finger smudges on it.

Kanda arches his brow. _Is he waiting for someone?_

"Good evening. Admittedly, I was hoping you'd be someone else—maybe a finder, so I could have someone to clean up this place. It's disgusting. Has no one taken care of my room in my absence? Even my old booze bottles were still here when I came back."

Kanda answers the man's ridiculous question with one of his own. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Tiedoll's apprentice? I'm drinking low-grade wine in my room, _alone_. Now if only Klaud were here, I would be able to tolerate this cheap wine those piss-poor finders brought me. Finders, huh? Can't even find a good merlot…" He sighs, taking a long swig from the half-full glass. While Kanda watches in impatient silence, Cross takes an opened bottle of wine and pours some of the scarlet beverage into the empty glass. He places said glass back on the table. "Oh, well. If you're here, then we may as well share a glass. Sit."

The redheaded man pats the seat beside him—the only place not littered with dark red stains or empty bottles—and Kanda hesitates. This is the opportunity he's been waiting for, but he really doesn't want to have a drink with the General. The only person he had ever shared a drink with is Lenalee, and she had ended up passing out.

But he isn't going to pass up this chance to investigate Cross.

He takes a seat on the couch, but much farther away from the space that the redheaded man had indicated. He brushes some of the empty wine bottles onto the floor to make space for himself, and sits down. Although Kanda's posture is as tense and rigid as ever, as he always is in the presence of people he does not trust, he tries to unclench his fists so as not to seem suspicious.

After a few minutes, when the samurai still hasn't touched the drink that Cross had poured for him, the General speaks.

"I'm not an idiot, Kanda. I know why you came to see me."

The swordsman, true to his stoicism, doesn't show an outward reaction. "Do you?"

"Ha-ha! Of course I do! Who the hell do you take me for? I'm not as trusting as my apprentice." He lights a cigarette then, and Kanda's nose crinkles at the scent. "Speaking of my apprentice, she's the reason you're here, isn't she?" Cross ignores the glare Kanda shoots in his direction, and continues to take drag after drag of tobacco. "Don't give me that look! I'm right, aren't I?"

Fire erupts in the samurai's face at the implication of Cross's words. The man is clearly slyer than Kanda had initially given him credit for…but then again, the dark-haired man definitely isn't the king of subtlety. Perhaps he should have seen this coming. Cross always does seem to be one step ahead of everyone else in the Order—when he finally returns to Headquarters, it hadn't been because he was found; he had come back of his own volition. And he had stayed, despite the fact that he proclaimed that there is nothing he can do to retrieve his apprentice from the Ark. So who's to say that he doesn't know more about the Moyashi than he's letting on?

"What can you tell me?" he asks the General, his dark eyes trained on the full wineglass in front of him.

"Hmm…" Cross ponders, chin in hand. "Well, I can tell you all sorts of things."

"But will you?"

The redheaded man shoots him a grin. "That depends on what you ask me. I set Timcanpy to destroy everything incriminating that he records of me, but I still won't tell you anything that you can use to blackmail me or such. I put my trust in a select few people, and you three little shits aren't any of them."

Kanda almost blows his fuse right then, but he reels himself back in at the last moment. "I've just about reached my limit, Cross." This isn't even close to being true; really, the samurai had reached his limit of tolerance long ago, but he had somehow managed not to kill anyone up until this point.

"And now here you are, being rude to a General," Cross _tsks_. "You should really treat your elders with more respect. To someone like me, you're no better than trash."

Kanda is too furious to bother dignifying him with a response, but the redhead doesn't seem to mind in the least.

"And I can tell that you're a few seconds from storming out of here. But let me tell you, throwing a tantrum because my apprentice is missing is not going to solve anything. You think you've reached your limit? You have no idea—though I guess you have your own problems too, don't you?"

"What are you talking about?"

Another drag, and a sip of wine. "I knew that you were going to come see me eventually," Cross begins, now on a completely different topic than the one he had just been discussing. Kanda has to work extremely hard to stop himself from attempting to strangle the infuriating man beside him. "I could tell almost from the moment I came back to this dump."

The dark-haired man raises a brow at the man's choice of words, trying to keep track of his train of thought.

He can't, and quickly abandons the endeavor.

"My apprentice may be an idiot, but she does seem to have this sort of charm about her."

The samurai tenses at the reference to the white-haired girl who has been plaguing his thoughts for weeks. _What is he getting at?_

"This charisma allows her both to take advantage of people—as she did in all of those poker tournaments—and make friends wherever she goes. I have to say, I knew that she was good at winning people over, but I never thought for a second that she'd be able to nab you as well. Tiedoll's stoic apprentice! Now, when did you figure out that you were in love with her?"

"What?" Kanda exclaims, the first word he's said since Cross started his rant.

The man takes another drag before answering. "It's obvious. I already told you that I'm not an idiot, didn't I? I may not have been the greatest father figure for a ten-year-old girl, but I can at least tell when some boy's been captured by her feminine wiles." He pauses. "But maybe it's more than that for you. I don't really care, but if you got her pregnant than I may have to neuter you. My point is that you care about her, for whatever reason. And you want to help get her back."

Kanda allows the silence to hang in the air for a few moments, trying to find the words that will allow him to say as little as is feasibly possible. He doesn't want to address Cross's words, or the accusations behind them that seem all the more pointless to refute. (Because to Kanda, being asked if he's in love with the Moyashi is akin to an accusation.)

"Can you?" he asks, his voice as neutral as he can possibly make it. He doesn't deny Cross's claims, and the man doesn't say anything else about it.

"…Maybe."

"So why don't you?" Kanda tries to keep the borderline hatred out of his voice. Right now, he simply needs to know the truth behind the General's inactivity.

The redheaded man looks up at the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the structure with his visible eye. "There are some things going on in this damn bloody war that you don't understand, you fool. Things that could shake the entire foundation of the Order itself…and even more so, the Noah Clan and the Earl. As a result, there are some things that Allen must deal with herself." He turns to face Kanda, meeting his gaze head-on. "Are you sure that you want to know them?"

The samurai draws himself up, hardening his gaze so that the redheaded General can see his resolve. He doesn't know what's going on, but he wants to. He wants to know why Cross is doing nothing in his power to help his apprentice—even if knowing this information will put him in danger as well.

"Yes. I'm sure."

He nods his head at the samurai, burning through the rest of his cigarette in one hit. "Good. There's only one thing you need to know, Kanda. Listen closely."

He does.

* * *

"Sheril," Tyki says, warning evident in his tone. "What are you doing in here?"

All too suddenly, the invisible bonds that had been holding the white-haired girl hostage are loosened. Allen jumps back, trying to get as far away from the man with the monocle as possible. Tyki's eyes jump to her immediately, golden orbs scanning over her entire body. His intense stare makes her skin crawl, and she tenses under his scrutiny.

After a few seconds, apparently satisfied by whatever it is that he had seen, he returns his attention to his fellow Noah.

 _His brother_ , she reminds herself with a jolt of unease. It still remains to see whether he is as sadistic as his relative—though based on what she's seen of him so far, she doesn't hold much hope for him being merciful.

"It's lovely to see you, dear brother," Sheril croons, turning his back to the white-haired girl. "Seeing as how you're always out and about nowadays, I decided to pay a visit to your guest. You've been so secretive about her, Tyki. I wonder why that is." His voice is light and teasing—utterly unassuming—but still, something about the way he poses his question as a statement gives Allen chills down to her very bones.

Tyki's jaw tightens progressively during his brother's speech. "That is none of your concern, Sheril."

The taller man frowns at the curt dismissal, pouty displeasure obvious in his regal features. "Is it not? If you're planning to keep her around, it will make it that much more troublesome for Lord Millennium. Not to mention the fact that it will also be that much more unsavory for you, Tyki, to choose a wife of your liking. This exorcist certainly does not fit the bill." He turns slightly, casting a flirty glance at Allen that makes her skin prickle. She takes another step back. "Though, personally, I can see why you are so attached to her. She is quite exquisite, though not as modest as my Tricia. You never did like to share, did you, Tyki?"

"Shut up, Sheril."

Even Allen's stomach does a flip in response to the level of anger in Tyki's voice. Though his wrath isn't directed at her, it turns her veins to ice and stomach to lead all the same. She can only imagine being the target of such ire—though perhaps she has suffered at his hands enough as it is.

"How rude!" Sheril exclaims melodramatically. "To be so callous with your own family—what has gotten into you, Tyki?"

The Noah of Pleasure shrugs. "As I said before, it's none of your concern what I do in my spare time. Now leave."

Tyki's tone of voice leaves no room for argument, but Sheril makes no move to obey him.

Allen clenches her fists. The tension in the air is palpable. If the two Noah get into an altercation or an all-out brawl, she's going to be caught in the middle of it. At the moment, the white-haired girl can't think of anything else she would rather avoid.

On the other hand, she's also standing against a wall, as far away from the exit as is humanly possible. Allen holds her breath, waiting for one of them to make the first move—

"Oh, dear," a high-pitched voice croons from the doorway.

All three of them turn to stare at the newcomer, who is currently twirling Lero around in her hand. Simultaneous cries of "Road" and "My dear Road!" meet Allen's ears as the spiky-haired girl steps into the room.

Distantly, the white-haired girl thinks that she has never been happier to see Road Camelot.

Sheril's countenance quickly changes to one of utter rapture as the young girl enters, and he rushes forward to embrace her—only to be stopped by the obtrusive pumpkin-headed umbrella, whom Road holds up to shield herself.

"Hello Tyki, Father," she says sweetly. She waves giddily as her eyes find Allen, who is still huddled near the wall. "Hello, Allen!" she sing-songs.

"What are you doing here, Road?" Tyki demands in a tone of voice that tells her that he is largely unappreciative of these repeated intrusions.

The young girl smiles deviously at him, still using Lero as a shield from Sheril's continuous attempts at coddling her. "I only came to find Father. Lord Millennium wants to talk to him."

"To me?" Sheril questions, straightening up once more. "Did he say what he needs of me?"

"He wants to talk to you in _private_ ," Road explains, ignoring Lero's cries of agony.

"I see," the tall man says, suddenly much more serious than he had been a few seconds prior. "Thank you, my dear. I shouldn't keep him waiting, should I?"

As the two turn to depart, Road waves once more at Allen.

"Bye, Allen-chan!" she calls, grinning brightly at the young woman. As expected, the white-haired girl doesn't wave back.

Silence falls over the remaining two occupants as soon as the door clicks shut, and Allen takes a deep breath before detaching herself from the wall. Tyki is still standing in the center of the room, his eyes intently watching her as she shifts in discomfort under his penetrating gaze.

Feeling too exposed from standing, Allen sits down on the large bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She sees Tyki shift out of the corner of her eye, but makes no move to get away as he sidles up to her. She can sense him looking down at her, but she doesn't meet his gaze, keeping her own eyes trained on the luxurious carpet beneath her feet.

Just as she's starting to wonder if he's going to keep staring at her wordlessly, she breaks the silence.

"Father?" she asks, referring to what Road had said to Sheril earlier. "I didn't know that Road is your niece."

He scoffs. "Not by blood. Sheril is my brother, but Road is adopted. Being a woman in a twelve-year-old's body, she had to find a family to adopt her in order to avoid suspicion. That's all there is to it." He pauses, then says, "Are you hurt?"

She can't keep the surprise out of her voice. "What?"

He sighs at her, looking fed up. "Did he hurt you?"

While the white-haired girl struggles to regain the bearings of her voice box, Tyki sits down beside her. He takes her arm, turning it over in his hands before moving on to the other one. He does the same with her legs and torso, feeling her through her clothes so as to detect any injuries she may have.

"He didn't hurt me," she finally says as Tyki finishes up his inspection, leaving her even more uncomfortable than she already is. She cradles her arms close to her chest, her posture causing her to look as though she is trying to hold herself in—as though she will fall to pieces if she is to move her arms from their position.

Tyki watches her with stony eyes, impatience evident in his stance. Whether it is directed at her hesitance, or simply due to the fact that Sheril had been in his room without permission, is something that Allen finds no value in trying to decipher.

Right now, she is wholly focused on not losing her cool or breaking down in front of her captor. "He just…talked to me, and made me curtsy. He said I was being rude."

"…What else did he talk about?"

She swallows, a large lump getting stuck in her throat as she tries to rein in her emotions. "He talked about you."

Tyki arches his brows.

Taking this as a sign to continue, she repeats the gist of what Sheril had said. "He told me that you've been acting strange. That you're not letting anyone else see me…and that the Earl is letting you."

He doesn't answer for a while, leading the white-haired girl to believe that he doesn't care about what his brother had said. Then, "That's none of your business."

She had thought that she had herself under control, but Allen finds herself outraged by his brusque reply. "It _involves_ me! You've been keeping me isolated and alone, even when you're here, and it's none of my concern? The Earl is even in on it—what are you trying to do? How can you say that to me?"

Tyki snickers right to her face, not an ounce of surprise on his features. "I say it because it's true. What I do with you is my business, and mine alone. The Earl said so."

Silver eyes widen at Tyki's claim. Is it true? Had the Earl basically _given_ her to Tyki? Like some sort of…slave, or object? Is that why he's been keeping her away from people? So that she's more complacent, more attached to him, and him alone? So that she needs to rely on him? "You—" She cuts herself off, words escaping her at the Noah's audacity. "You're beyond cruel! First you rape and torture me, then you attack my friends, kidnap me, and now you…you leave me here all day and night, completely isolated. It's…beyond words. Sitting here every day, inside my own head…after a while, it starts to look like the walls are getting smaller, even though I know they're not. Like they're closing in on me.

"It's like…" she trails off, "…it's like I'm going insane. And then you come back at night and I just…I just dream that one of these days, I won't wake up. Or when I do, you'll be there, and you'll torture me all over again." By this point in Allen's tirade, tears are flowing freely from her silver orbs. "I c-can't…I don't know if…" She lets the words fall from her lips like loose change, spilling her fears to the one person who has tortured her dreams for months.

Is this what isolation has done to her? Is this really all of the built-up tension that has been haunting her mind for two weeks? The constant fear and worry for herself and her friends, the unresolved belief in the back of her mind that Tyki will snap at any moment and make her relive that night all over again—or, even worse, that he will treat her the same way he did last time, with gentleness and care. It's maddening; it would be to anyone in her position, and even though Neah had been helping her, encouraging her to keep her mind together throughout these past few weeks, he isn't here right now.

The only person here right now is Tyki, and his apparent concern for her physical well-being only serves to madden her further.

As Allen stares with blurred vision at her lap, which is being rapidly dampened by the traitorous tears that fall from her eyes, she feels something firm and warm against her. Her eyes snap open wide, and she sees the masculine arm wrapped across her chest, and feels its partner across her back. Tyki's body is pressed flush against hers, his head buried in the crook of her neck. But the added warmth of the embrace does nothing to stifle her tears of dismay—it only serves to make it worse.

"Why?" she whispers shakily. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" he says against her throat, eliciting a shiver from the young woman.

"Treating me this way. Like…like you don't want to hurt me."

"Would you prefer that I treat you like a dangerous prisoner? Do you want me to torture you for my own amusement?" His grip tightens on her, but Allen relishes the pain. At least pain is honest; it doesn't masquerade or pretend to be something it's not.

"…Yes."

He scoffs derisively at her, his lips moving up to her ear. "We don't always get what we want, girl. It's not that easy. But me?" He leans closer to her, and his lips just touch the outer shell of her ear, sending a tingle through her body. "I do. And I want you."

* * *

Sheril doesn't expect much to come out of his meeting with the Earl; after all, Road had not made the summons sound very urgent. But then again, there are also things about his cherished adopted daughter's temperament that continue to alarm him—such as her strange fixation on that exorcist girl.

Well, she _does_ have intriguingly exotic hair, and that cursed eye of hers is also quite remarkable in its ability to detect Akuma. The Noah of Desire can definitely see the appeal the young lady holds; oh yes, he had taken notice of her beauty right away.

Now if only he were able to pinpoint exactly where he'd seen her before, he would be able to rest more easily.

Given these chaotic thoughts, the last scene Sheril expects to be greeted with upon entering the Earl's dwelling is a pensive expression.

"Sheril," the large man greets him as soon as he enters with Road by his side. Wisely is already here, sitting in typical fashion with his eyes closed and legs crossed on a nearby sofa. The turban he wears is drawn looser than usual around his extra eyes.

 _He appears to be deep in thought_ , Sheril thinks. _Fitting_. "Hello, Lord Millennium," he replies respectfully. "Is everything alright?"

"Certainly not!" Lero objects as Road twirls him faster.

"Funny thing about that," the large man responds, glossing over the interruption and placing his chin between two fingers. "I couldn't help but notice that you were in Tyki-pon's room just now."

 _So he's still Tyki-pon, is he?_ "I was. I went to visit the female exorcist you have locked up in his room. Mostly out of…curiosity." Annoyance and boredom were also factors, but he doesn't want to admit that to the Earl. Somehow he doesn't think that it would sit too well with him.

"While curiosity is a natural part of being alive, not just for humans," Wisely interjects, his normal pair of eyes still closed tightly, "it can also get you into trouble—or even killed, in some instances."

"Indeed," the Earl agrees, "you must be very cautious. Do not intrude on Allen Walker again."

The Noah of Desire arches an eyebrow, caught slightly off guard by the change in atmosphere and deadly seriousness of the Earl's demeanor. "I do apologize, Lord Millennium. I will not do so again…but if I may ask, I'm afraid I don't quite follow your reasoning."

"It's okay, Father," Road says from beside him, still swinging Lero around in a large arc. "You just don't remember. Your memory is still partially damaged from what happened thirty-five years ago."

"She is correct," the Earl admits. "Tell me, Sheril…what is the last thing you remember from thirty-five years ago—as your previous incarnation?"

Sheril frowns, but thinks back on his previous vessel's memories nonetheless. As he does so, images and sounds come to him in short, fragmented bursts, remnants of a half-lived past life and shocking betrayal. He remembers…

"What I remember is that our entire family nearly vanished," he admits, a flurry of emotions and negative feelings coursing through his veins. But he fails to locate the root cause—or, at least, the cause in its entirety. "I remember…we were betrayed, weren't we? A Noah betrayed us."

The Earl nods in approval, as does Wisely. Road, on the other hand, stays notably silent.

"Is that all you can recall?" the large man asks, tilting his head to the side as he scrutinizes the Noah of Desire.

Sheril nods his head stiffly. "There is something else as well, but the memory is much fuzzier. I'm having trouble connecting the images…it's almost as though an important piece of the puzzle is missing."

The Earl nods, apparently not surprised by this admission. "In a sense, that is exactly what's happened. A whole piece of the puzzle has been removed. It makes sense that you can't remember the event in its entirety. It is extremely unfortunate, but it is through no fault of your own."

Sheril frowns. "What do you mean, my Lord?"

"Thirty-five years ago," the Earl begins, "the Clan of Noah was betrayed and mercilessly slaughtered. The Fourteenth Noah killed almost all of us, save for myself and Road, who managed to escape. He was a traitor…only the worst kind of person betrays family. And that Noah…has been reborn into Allen Walker."

Sheril's eyes balloon in his skull. _That girl? She is the one who tried to destroy the other Noah and the Earl all those years ago?_ It's impossible—surely he would be able to sense if she were a Noah.

"She hasn't yet fully awakened," the Earl explains, abating Sheril's attempts at denial. "And before you ask, yes, it is theoretically possible for a Noah and an exorcist to exist in one form, though it is highly improbable. Most of the time it would be unacceptable, and the weapon would be disposed of. However, in this case, that would also result in death, since the Innocence has reconstructed part of Allen's heart." He sighs, leaning his head on one hand. "And I don't want that to happen. However, the fact that she is a vessel for the Fourteenth is not the only reason why she is so valuable."

Once again, the Noah of Desire is befuddled by the Earl's cryptic explanations. "Then what is the other?" he asks, wary of the answer. Just how many more secrets does this girl hold?

"There is a very good reason for your lapses in memory, and for the similar lapses found in Wisely's and Tyki's, as well as in the memories of every other Noah who perished at the hands of the Fourteenth that day." He pauses, then resumes talking in a deadly voice.

"The Fourteenth had an accomplice. An accomplice who possessed the ability to erase other people's memories of them. This person's meddling is the reason why most of you cannot connect the fragments of your memory of that day in a logical order—because entire parts of it have been completely blocked. You cannot even remember the exact moment of your death, can you?"

Sheril inhales sharply, now feeling uncertain. He _can't_ recall the precise moment of his death, or his last waking moment. It's all hazy…because of a mystery person? An accomplice of the Fourteenth… "And who is this 'accomplice?'"

"A person who possessed the ability of complete emotional and physical understanding and manipulation of others…and the Fifteenth disciple of Noah."


	14. A Loss of Composure

Why. It's a simple enough word, and an even simpler question. But no matter how many times Allen asks it, it seems as though she never gets an answer. At least, not an answer that satisfies her. Then again, the white-haired girl finds it hard to believe that being kept on Noah's Ark and held prisoner by the Millennium Earl and an obsessive Noah would be acceptable under any circumstances. Even if anyone _did_ take the time to answer her myriad of questions, she would still be miserable.

But no one does. And this endless silence makes her predicament that much more unbearable.

The more time that goes by, the longer she stays cooped up inside Tyki's lavish room, the more Allen starts to lose her hope of ever getting out. But still, she somehow manages to hang onto her sanity, the bulk of which is dangling by a miniscule thread. And though she tries to keep the thread strong, it still feels as though it's slipping little by little, day after day, stretching itself taut to the point of breaking.

One of these days, it's going to snap. The white-haired girl wonders what will happen when it does. Will she just stop fighting? Stop talking, stop exercising, and instead become a boneless heap of flesh and regret? Maybe Neah will just take over her body then. It would be the perfect opportunity.

 **That is nonsense** , Neah says assertively, emerging from the depths of Allen's subconscious and jolting her out of her depressive stupor. **You're starting to lose yourself, Allen. I told you to keep holding onto your memories, didn't I? Remember what you're doing here. You are going to get out of here, and go back to the Black Order, remember?**

She doesn't think anything back to him, her mind staying curiously blank.

**Do you hear me, Allen?**

_…I do._

**What are you going to do?**

… _.Get back to my friends_.

**How?**

… _I don't know._

**I always pegged you for an opportunist, Allen. You need to observe your surroundings. Find your chance, and take it. You have more friends than you realize.**

_What happened to biding our time?_

**It's essentially the same thing,** Neah says with finality. **You bide your time, and wait for the perfect opportunity. We will have one.**

_…How do you know?_

**You are going to have to trust me somewhat, Allen. I know that I am a Noah, and your enemy, but we share a vested interest. I don't want the Earl to take over the world, either.**

The white-haired girl bites her lip, the same question still running through her mind. _Why is that, exactly? Why don't you want the Earl to take over?_

It's a long time before Neah gives her an answer, and she is actually quite surprised that he does.

**If the Millennium Earl is allowed to take over, he will destroy everything and everyone—besides the Noah, of course.**

This much she already knows. What she doesn't understand, and what continues to frustrate her, is why Neah is being purposely vague about his explanation. Why does he care if all the humans are done away with? He isn't human; he never was.

And there's one more thing that's been eating away at her for months.

 _How are you going to stop him? I mean, obviously you've tried before, and you didn't succeed. What did you do to make everyone hate you so much?_ She knows that the last time she asked, Neah had staunchly refused to divulge that information to her. But, in all honesty, she is frustrated; how is she supposed to do anything to help when she doesn't even know what really happened? Surely, Neah cannot keep everything from her.

 **You're right**. He interrupts her thoughts with his own, surprising the young woman with his abrupt surrender. **When you first asked me, I didn't want to tell you too much. I didn't think that I should be the one to tell you, seeing as you do not know me well or even trust me. But I suppose…that it's better to hear it from me than from the Earl, who does not truly understand.**

Allen bites down on her lip again, eagerly awaiting the Noah's confession. And, to her shock, he doesn't disappoint.

**I am a traitor, Allen. Thirty-five years ago, I attempted to destroy the entire Noah family—and the Earl himself.**

_Kill…the Earl?_ Allen interrupts, shock written in every line of her face. _But how?_

**Most of the other Noah do not know this, but if all of the disciples die by the hand of another Noah, they will not revive—but there is a catch. In order to ensure that the Noah do not awaken in another vessel, all of the Noah must die within the same day. If they do not, then they will awaken again—even if they were killed by another Noah. The final Noah who remains must commit suicide in order to complete the process.**

At this point, Allen has begun to twist a lock of white hair around her finger.

**But that isn't the whole story. Obviously, I would not have been able to defeat all of the other Noah and the Earl by myself. There was another Noah who helped me—the Fifteenth. She was my accomplice, and the one who learned of the Noahs' vulnerability.**

An accomplice? All this time, there was another Noah? One who knew the Fourteenth, who even tried to help him in his endeavor to destroy the Earl? _How did she find out?_

**Wisely. As the Noah of Wisdom, he possesses all knowledge of our ancestry—our strengths, and our weaknesses. She managed to retrieve the information with the excuse of curiosity, then erased his memory of the event using one of her Noah abilities. That is also something that she learned from Wisely: that other Noah are not immune to the powers of a family member, and that dark matter can be used against us—but only by another Noah.**

**But even with this newfound knowledge, we still failed. Perhaps we were too arrogant, believing that we could rid the world of Noah by ourselves. Initially, my accomplice and I had planned to kill ourselves after we killed the Earl…but there was one Noah who got in our way.**

Allen tenses, not liking the story's sudden downturn.

… _Who was it?_

… **It was the third disciple of Noah, Joyd—or, as you know him, Tyki Mikk. He died, but not before taking the Fifteenth with him. She killed herself along with him in order to prevent my death. With her gone, I was not able to defeat Road or the Earl. I went on the run with my brother…but I was killed shortly thereafter, by the Earl himself.**

Allen's blood nearly freezes over. Tyki…Joyd…whatever name he had gone by then, it had been _him_ who had thwarted Neah's plan. It's _his_ fault that the Earl still exists, _his_ fault that everyone is in danger.

 _His_ fault that Mana was turned into an Akuma.

 **Not entirely** , Neah corrects her. **Joyd had…always disliked me, had always been suspicious of me. There was no trust between us. I cannot blame him for trying to survive, though I harbor my own hatred for him. In any case, the Fifteenth still managed to erase his memory of her as she was dying. Even now, he seems to have no recollection of his death. To be honest, I'm not certain if he even remembers _me_. This vessel…he is different from the others—more independent-minded. He has not been fully engulfed by the memory of Pleasure. I can sense his inner turmoil—he is trying to retain his own personality. Perhaps…that is why he has been acting so strangely.**

At that, the young woman can't help but let out a derisive snort. _Don't—don't ever try to…to make excuses for him! After all that he's done to me and my friends, I can never see him as anything but a monster!_

**How do you know, Allen? You may be able to see the souls of Akuma, but that's a far cry from understanding the mind of a Noah. The two are inherently different; Noahs, despite possessing special abilities, are still human.**

_You're wrong! He only sees me as a plaything. Something to use and discard—like I'm not even alive. How can you call someone who treats people like that human?_

_Maybe that's been the problem this whole time_ , she thinks. She's been so caught up in her own misery that she has begun to confuse herself about what Tyki truly is. All those times he acted gentle with her—they were all a ruse, to make her think that he's not the monster she thinks he is. Well, she isn't going to give up that easily. She's going to _make_ him show his true colors. Maybe that will remind her who she is: an exorcist of the Black Order, a wielder of Innocence whose sworn enemies are the Noah and the Earl. She won't let him win—she _won't_.

 **Allen, don't do anything foolish** , Neah commands her. **You don't know Joyd as I do. He's unpredictable, and obsessive. You mustn't provoke him—**

With an almighty push, the white-haired girl closes off her mind, silencing Neah's warnings.

No. She isn't going to be deterred so easily. She'll show Tyki her resolve—and she will get back to the Order, even if it's the last thing she does.

* * *

Even by the time Allen's captor finally returns, none of the young woman's newfound rage has left her. As a matter of fact, sitting alone in Tyki's room without Neah's company has only hardened her resolve. Her angry, vindictive thoughts for the golden-eyed Noah, with no outlet by which to release them, have only grown louder and more demanding. Her Innocence, which still remains bound by the dark matter cuff on her wrist, is itching to be released. Even her own skin is burning slightly, pain shooting up her arm as an unfortunate side effect of her Innocence being bound and unused for so long. Her eye is throbbing as well, eager to hunt for more Akuma.

It wants to kill him.

However, the white-haired girl knows that making an attempt on Tyki's life right now will get her nowhere. She cannot remove the cuff by herself, and trying to fight the Noah without her Innocence would be pointless. Attempting to strangle him with the dark matter cuff would be fruitless as well, seeing as how she can't remove it.

The young woman is sitting on his bed, her mind lost in a haze of murderous thoughts that she knows full well she can't act on.

She knows that it's his fault. He may have been trying to save his own life, but he is still one of the key reasons why the Earl is still alive today. Had he not caused the death of the Fifteenth, according to Neah, then the Earl could have been defeated thirty-five years ago. So many people would still be alive, and so many more would have been spared the pain of being turned into Akuma…

…including Mana.

She may not be able to fight Tyki in her state, but what she can do is push his buttons—after all, the Earl has made it clear that he doesn't want to kill her yet. Tyki will not kill her, and she doesn't believe that merely making him angry will result in her escape. It's not as though forcing the Noah to reveal himself as the monster he truly is will help in any other way than by allowing her more peace of mind.

She has suffered so much at his hands, as have her friends. But lately…she had allowed herself to be caught off guard by his sudden change in character. What Neah had said had only driven her further up the wall…

 _Him?_ Trying to hold onto his humanity? She would burst out laughing if doing so wouldn't make her appear more insane than she already feels. His unforeseen onslaught of mercy—it's nothing more than a mask; it has to be.

This is what she wants to know.

As soon as he enters the room, the young woman's nose is assaulted by the aroma of roasted chicken and asparagus. With her eyes set firmly on the wall in front of her, Allen listens to the patter of his footsteps and the clinking of kitchenware as he sets the tray of food on the table.

She doesn't move.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Tyki takes note of her odd behavior. She had taken up a habit of looking at him whenever he enters the room, and had long since stopped resisting the food that was offered to her.

"Aren't you going to eat anything, girl?" he asks curiously. "You aren't going on a diet, are you?"

Allen snorts as derisively as she can, not bothering to spare a glance for her captor. "Why should I? The food all tastes like mush anyway." An obvious lie, but rude nonetheless.

She cannot see, but she can practically feel the man's eyebrow quirking. She has grown to understand his mannerisms well. "Is that so? You've never complained before."

The young woman clenches her teeth, frustrated by his patience. "Maybe I just didn't say anything to you."

At that, Tyki releases a low-pitched chuckle. Allen counts his footsteps as he saunters towards her, getting uncomfortably closer to her with each step. He stands before her, staring down at her rigid form with a pensive expression.

_So I'm getting his attention. That's good._

"You're being very feisty today, girl. I rather like it. I'll make sure to put in a good word with the Earl about getting better ingredients, hm?"

Allen clenches her fists as unchecked rage bubbles beneath the surface of her skin, threatening to spill over at any moment. Without a second thought, the white-haired girl allows it to. "Why?" she spits out, her once-timid voice now vindictive and full of poison. "Because you don't want your _pet_ to starve to death?"

A refined eyebrow rises at the young woman's sudden outburst. Urged on by the surprised expression on Tyki's face, Allen continues with her tirade.

"Well, it doesn't matter what you give me. It's all garbage. Anything given to me by you is garbage, _Noah_ ," she spits venomously, meeting his baffled gaze with blatant fury. Allen understands his bewilderment, and mentally pats herself on the back for it. Her moods have been all over the place lately—until just recently, she had been a sobbing mess.

But now, hopelessness has given way to anger, and with that anger comes a desperate need to insult, to prod and belittle and antagonize her captor as he had antagonized her –until he shows a reaction other than patience or indifference.

Feeling a sudden burst of adrenaline, the white-haired girl jumps up, coming face-to-face with the Noah of Pleasure. "Everything you give me is trash. These clothes"—she gestures to the garments she is donning, which consist of a white button-up blouse and trailing silver skirts—"this room…this food. I didn't want any of it when I first arrived here, and I don't want it now. I'm not…I'm not your _pet._ " She's breathing much faster now, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She must be hyperventilating, but she doesn't care. Her silver eyes are alight with flames, and for the first time that she can remember, Tyki is staring at her with something other than condescension or lust.

He is staring at her with awe.

But it's not enough. She wants him to be angry at her—she wants him to lose control and show her what a monster he truly is. She doesn't want, nor does she need, his admiration. She would rather see his wrath—because otherwise, he will only continue to seem more human.

And this is something that the white-haired girl is wholly unwilling to accept, especially after hearing everything that Neah had told her.

Provided that the Fourteenth hadn't been lying, of course.

However, Tyki doesn't do anything of the sort. Instead, what he says next throws Allen for a loop.

"Did I ever say you were?" the golden-eyed man asks, not moving from his position towering over her; they would be nose-to-nose if he were only to bend down a bit farther. "I only said that you were mine, girl. Don't equate that with being an animal. Were you a pet, you would not get to stay in such a lavish room." He turns his back on her, leaving Allen both dumbfounded and more furious than she had ever been in her entire life. "Though I do applaud you for speaking so brazenly. It's quite endearing."

A strangled cry wrenches its way out of the young woman's throat, voicing all of the anger and frustration that she is feeling in this moment.

"No!" she exclaims, causing Tyki to pivot on his foot to face her once again. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to treat me like…like I'm just a child throwing a tantrum. I am more than that! Yet the most vivid picture I have of you is of you belittling and tormenting me for your own amusement. And now you have the nerve to try to comfort me? That's not how it works, Tyki. Why don't you just torture me some more?"

As the Noah before her watches with disbelieving eyes, the white-haired girl storms over to the bedside table. With no hesitation, she picks up the entire plate of food—

—and smashes it against the wall.

Food debris and shards of glassware rain across the carpet, and the goblet of water soon follows.

"Why don't you just _rape_ me again?" she screams, staring daggers at the Noah. She notes, with some sick satisfaction, that he looks somewhat angry.

"Allen—" he starts.

"Oh! That's only the second time you've called me by my name. I was beginning to believe that my name was just 'girl' now. Or have I finally struck a chord? Do you not enjoy it when someone else besides you destroys your possessions?"

"Stop."

"I wonder how you would react if I were to just kill myself," the white-haired girl spits, her tone dripping with venom. With lightning-fast reflexes, Allen bends down and picks up one of the large glass shards, holding it up to her own throat. It's a bluff, but it gets to Tyki nonetheless. The Noah's eyes widen fractionally at her threat.

Allen grins back at him. "You don't like this, do you? When someone threatens one of your toys. That's too bad." And then, before he can tell her to stop, the young woman brings the shard to her own wrist. With a flick of its sharp edge, she slices her own wrist open—not enough to kill, but enough to draw blood.

Tyki reacts faster than she would have thought possible. Before Allen can even raise the glass in a defensive posture—not that it would have helped matters—the Noah grabs her wrist. Without sparing a word, his other hand reaches into her throat. The white-haired girl gags as she feels the sensation of a hand closing around her windpipe. She belatedly realizes that his hand is inside of her, squeezing itself around the sensitive walls of her inner throat.

"Are you _insane_?" Tyki demands, bringing her bleeding wrist up before his scrutiny. Small droplets of scarlet drip onto the lush carpet, and are immediately sucked up by the porous material. "How will cutting yourself solve anything?"

Through the sensation of having her windpipe mildly constricted, Allen still manages to smile darkly.

"You don't like it, do you?" she teases, her voice coming out lower than usual. "You're allowed to hurt me, but I'm not. Is that how it is?"

When the Noah doesn't answer, the white-haired girl chuckles evilly. "Well, go ahead then, _Joyd_."

Tyki visibly flinches at the utterance of his Noah name. "Do not call me that. How do you even know that name, anyway?"

"I know more than you think I do. And why shouldn't I call you by that name? It is your name, is it not? Joyd. That's who you are." Allen lets out a ragged gasp as Tyki's grip tightens around her windpipe, further cutting off her air supply. Still, she keeps pressing forward with her words. "That's all that you've become—a Noah who cares about nothing except himself and his master. It…" She cuts off as she is seized by a coughing fit, Tyki's grip tightening on her airway. "It's more like _you're_ the pet than I am. You are…p- _pathetic_."

She spits the last word at him, her voice barely carrying over as her body futilely attempts to inhale the oxygen it desperately needs. Tyki's hand constricts even more, closing off her airway to the point that she can no longer draw breath. The corners of her vision begin to swim with fuzzy black dots, and Allen's free hand darts up to grip feebly at Tyki's arm. Her hand, of course, phases right through his, leaving the white-haired girl grabbing at an assailant that doesn't exist.

Is he really going to choke her to death? She had genuinely believed that he would take better care not to disobey his master, but perhaps she had misjudged his self-control. Either way, this seems an unfit way to die for an exorcist, but Allen can't help but savor the moment for a bizarre reason.

She had been right. He _is_ a monster—a man who treats others as though they are livestock, when in reality, _he_ is the biggest sheep of them all. It's perfect, in a saturnine sort of way; so perfect that the white-haired girl cannot help but give a morbid smile as her vision darkens, and her limbs begin to shake with lack of oxygen.

But just as her eyelids fall shut, Allen feels the pressure on her wrist and throat slacken. Near unconsciousness, with no support for her failing limbs, the young woman collapses onto the floor. Though the carpet cushions her fall somewhat, she still cries out when her head hits the floor. She gasps as her lungs reflexively suck in the much-needed air, granting her airways a brief respite. Allen coughs harshly, her hands automatically going for her throat in an attempt to soothe the bruises that she can already feel forming there.

She stays in a heap on the floor, fully expecting Tyki to land another blow, or at least do something to solidify this act of dominance.

But it never comes.

Instead, Allen suddenly feels weightless as her body is lifted off of the floor, only to feel herself being set down on a soft surface—the bed, she realizes with her addled mind. At first confused, she lies there with her eyes shut as she listens to the sound of footsteps heading to the bathroom. She registers the soothing sound of running water, which shuts off abruptly as the footsteps venture back to her bedside. The unassuming _clink_ of a glass is heard on the table beside her, and a few seconds later, the sound of a chair creaking also catches her attention.

Still wary of her surroundings, Allen cracks open an eye. There, sitting by her bed, is a glass of water—and a bit father beyond that, reclining in the chair next to the bed, is Tyki.

Needless to say, Allen doesn't sleep that night, instead lying awake in anxiety over what might await her if she does.

And, to the young woman's surprise, neither does Tyki. He just stays in the chair, watching her with a grim expression.

* * *

"Allen-chan."

The white-haired girl awakens rapidly at the familiar sing-song sound of her name. She nearly falls off the bed in her haste to get up, wary of turning her back on the eldest member of the Noah Clan. She has good reason, she believes—a sharp candle being lodged in one's eye tends to do that to people.

Road sidles into the room without a care for the young woman's state of dress—at one point in the middle of the night, she had discarded the shimmering skirts in disgust, leaving herself in nothing more than her undergarments, her blouse, and a pair of skin-tight leggings. She had known that Tyki was watching her, but had paid the Noah no mind.

Now, however, she is beginning to regret her rash decision.

"What are you doing here, Road?" she says tiredly, placing her bare feet on the carpet—which, she notices with a hint of sadistic glee, is no longer covered with shards of bloody glass. The scarlet stains that had been there seem to have disappeared as well. She idly wonders if Tyki had been the one who had cleaned them up, or if he had simply gotten an Akuma maid to do it. _It's probably the latter_ , the young woman decides. The Noah of Pleasure has a nasty habit of not cleaning up his own messes. So had it been with her, and he most likely doesn't even have the decency to clean up the result of an outburst that he had incited.

But that hardly matters at the moment.

"I'm here to come get you, silly," Road teases the white-haired girl, coming over to delicately pinch a strand of white hair between her fingers. She twists it around in her dainty digits, and Allen's skin crawls with the unwelcome contact. However, it is markedly preferable to being tortured by the Noah of Pleasure, so she wisely bites her tongue. "The Earl said that he wanted to talk to you. So I came to bring you to him."

Allen scoffs. "Does Tyki know about this?" she asks, turning away from the spiky-haired Noah. He would probably burst a blood vessel in his eye if he were to learn that his precious possession had been stolen away from right under his nose—even if it _was_ ordered by the Earl.

"No. Lord Millennium sent him on a mission. But then again, it's not really his choice, is it?"

* * *

"Thank you, Road," the Earl says good-naturedly as the blue-haired girl and Allen enter the room.

To Allen's surprise, it's the exact same dining hall that she had been taken to the first time she had been treated to a discussion with the Maker of Akuma. She silently hopes that this meeting doesn't end up like last time; Wisely isn't here, from what she can tell, so this one is already looking more promising to the young woman. Maybe this time she won't be tortured at the drop of a hat.

"Take a seat, Allen Walker," the morbidly cheerful man commands.

She does—but she chooses a seat that is as far away from the large man as she can physically get. Road, she notices, merely stands on one side of the room. She clearly isn't planning on leaving the two of them alone. If the Earl notices, he doesn't do anything about it; he says nothing to the young girl.

_Of course he won't. He probably trusts her more than the others. She has been with him for over thirty-five years, after all._

The white-haired girl takes note of another key detail about the room: unlike last time, there is no food, no dishes, and no silverware to speak of either on or around the table. Clearly, this meeting's purpose is solely discussion, not food. And whatever it's about, the Millennium Earl trusts only Road to be here as a witness.

"Allen-chan," the Earl begins, the affectionate honorific causing unpleasant prickles along her skin. "I trust that you are aware of your status as the Fourteenth Noah?"

The white-haired girl reins in her reaction, not overly eager to reveal the extent of what she knows to her mortal enemy. However…she can't outright lie, either. It would be obvious if she denied any knowledge of the memories she harbors.

"Yes."

"…And your Noah memories…have you managed to recover any of them?"

"…No." This much, at least, is true—she may know what Neah has told her, but she hadn't uncovered the memories herself.

The Earl leans back in his chair. "And why not? You have obviously sensed the growing presence of the Fourteenth within you. I must admit…it is strange to me how adamant you are in restraining the Noah memory from taking over. Why do you continue to deny him? It would be much easier on your psyche if you were to allow the Fourteenth's memories to take over. You may have already noticed the damage it has done to Tyki-pon."

Allen stares daggers at the man, infuriated by the senseless urge to spew profanities at him. "If I agree to answer, perhaps you can answer a question of mine in return, Earl."

The Earl guffaws loudly, wiping an imaginary tear from behind one of his lenses. "Oh? And what is your question, Allen-chan?"

The young woman takes a deep breath before replying. Now is her chance to verify that what Neah had told her is true—and to uncover the extent of Tyki's involvement.

Neah had been suspiciously vague in his recollection of Joyd's perpetual mistrust of him; if something else had occurred between them that he had purposely left out, the young woman wants to know what it is. In all honesty, she would be more inclined to believe Neah if she had confirmation from the Earl himself. It's the perfect opportunity to shed some more light on the subject.

"Why…why do the Noah of Pleasure and the Fourteenth hate each other so much?" Allen asks, her hands clenching in her lap. In order to avoid undue suspicion, she adds, "I keep getting this strong feeling, whenever I'm around Tyki. It's something like…hatred, or disgust. Is it…my memories? Why would the Fourteenth have a grudge against Tyki? Or is it…is it because of me?"

The Earl bellows jubilantly at her question, his hands on his rotund belly. "You are so naïve, my dear! This goes far beyond you, Allen-chan. The Fourteenth and the Third disciples have despised each other for decades—the Third, more so. It's got nothing to do with you." His grin stretches for a thousand miles as he leans forward onto the table. At his close proximity, the white-haired girl can even make out the miniscule crack in his eyeglass lens.

And the next words that spill out of the Earl's lips cause her to go ramrod straight in her chair.

"It's about Ezra, the Noah of Empathy—a traitorous accomplice of the Fourteenth…and your grandmother."


	15. A Moment of Weakness

Komui Lee cannot help but wonder just what is going on with the Black Order members.

At the forefront of his mind is Allen Walker, who still remains both unheard of and unseen, and whose captivity has been kept a reluctant secret by the Chief of Headquarters. Clearly, Central will hear of it eventually, but Komui doesn't want to be the one to drag them all the way out here. It would be unpleasant for all involved.

He wonders, most of all, about Allen's welfare. Is she okay? She is still alive, according to Hevlaska, but is she _okay_? There is no way for him to know, but Komui is willing to bet that the prospects for a captive of the Earl and the Noah don't look good. Cross had even said so himself, though he didn't seem too keen on lending a helping hand.

His own sister has been withdrawn and evasive, as has Lavi. Both the redhead and Lenalee seem to be missing for most of the few days they actually spend within the halls of Headquarters.

As always, Cross Marian is reclusive and purportedly carefree, not to mention brash and crude. The Finders in particular bare the brunt of his animalistic side.

However, on the contrary, it is Kanda whom Komui is concerned about even more than Cross. The Chief has been privy to many of the man's more destructive temperaments, but he has never witnessed such a drastic shift in his mood. Now, the samurai is practically oozing ill intent at all of his surroundings, but mostly towards one man in particular.

Cross Marian.

This is an unsurprising development, in Komui's opinion, but he is still unhinged by the long-haired man's degree of contempt. Whenever he is in the same room as him, Komui can all but sense Kanda's anxiety.

_Has something happened between the two of them? Or has Cross somehow managed to annoy Kanda with his behavior? I wouldn't be surprised…_

Whatever it is, Komui decides, perhaps he should simply confront the swordsman about it. A replaying memory reminds the unhinged scientist about the last personal experience he had with Kanda's rage. Only Lenalee had saved him then. Maybe he could get his dear younger sister to come with him if he confronts Kanda.

_Yes, that seems to be the safest route to go…_

"Chief?" a firm voice asks from behind the office doors.

"Yesss~?"

A sigh emanates from behind the large doors, and Komui can picture the accompanying image of a tired Reever.

Komui takes his lolling head off his desk as the Australian man enters his paper-strewn office. "What is it, Reever?" the purple-haired man snaps as he straightens out his beret. "I'm in the middle of something."

Reever sighs once more as he approaches Komui's desk, an aura of concern hanging about him. Then, the crazy scientist perks up as he glimpses the raw panic in Reever's eyes.

"What—?"

"I came here as fast as I could—Johnny and Tapp are trying to stall them."

Komui cannot help but start to panic slightly at the man's words. In one single second, multitudes of horrific scenarios have begun to drift through his head. Has something happened? Did someone nefarious break in? Or even worse—had the Noah attacked again? But certainly, if they had, Reever would have set the alarm off already. "Who?"

"They're from Central, Chief."

Komui slowly starts to peel himself off the ceiling. His hyperactive imaginings of catastrophes involving Noah and Akuma recede gratefully.

But then, he registers the fact that the intruders are from _Central_.

"Central?" he says in a disbelieving tone.

"Yes," Reever replies in a voice weighed down by dread. "They must have finally gotten word of General Cross being here, and that Allen's missing."

Komui instantly slouches in his seat. "Damn," he mutters under his breath.

"Chief—"

In the middle of Reever's sentence, the doors once again burst open—only this time, the intruders are unannounced. Johnny and Tapp enter first, both armed with equally ashamed and guilty expressions. And behind the two scientists is a man whom Komui had hoped to never have to see again.

Inspector Malcolm C. Leverrier walks in as though he owns the place—an attitude which, infuriatingly, he boasts greater right to possess than Komui does. He is a man whom the purple-haired scientist finds exceptionally easy to hate, for both his arrogance and his appalling treatment of the exorcists in the Black Order—particularly Lenalee.

Yet, Komui also knows that he must continue to play the convincing role of lapdog and subordinate under the gaze of the Inspector, in order to preserve his place in the Order.

"Inspector Leverrier." Komui stands and greets him apathetically, a forced grin stretching his cheeks taut.

The large man stops in front of Komui's desk, his lackeys staying behind him on either side. Johnny and Tapp immediately break off from the group and slink over towards Reever.

"What brings you to Headquarters?"

As usual, the man's narrowed slits of eyes and creepy mustache send angry shivers down Komui's spine.

"Chief Komui," the Inspector drawls. "I've come here on account of General Cross Marian—and that white-haired apprentice of his, Allen Walker."

* * *

Time doesn't stop for anyone. Allen knows this, and yet she can't help but feel as though she is currently outside the boundaries of it.

"My…grandmother?" the white-haired girl repeats. "My grandmother was…a Noah?"

"Is," the Earl corrects her cheekily. "She is still a Noah, my dear. At the moment we're just having a hard time finding her. The Noah are eternal, and since Ezra arrived with the Fourteenth thirty-five years ago, I am hedging my bets on her finding _you_."

Allen wonders for a moment if the Earl actually believes that, or if he knows of the supposed Fifteenth's whereabouts. Then, with a thrill of fear, she muses on whether or not he knows about the "method" of ending the Noah Clan that Neah had told her about.

_Then again…I'm still not entirely sure if Neah was honest with me. He's been extremely vague when he talks about Joyd, and now the Earl's telling me that it had all been because of my supposed grandmother? What really happened thirty-five years ago? And who should I trust—the mysterious Fourteenth Noah, or the Earl himself?_

_Is there anyone else in the world, anyone at all, who will tell me the whole and honest truth about why Neah betrayed the Clan of Noah?_

"And because the Noah are eternal," the Earl goes on, "we must find the Fifteenth before she regains her old powers."

"Old powers?" Allen echoes. _That's right. All Noah have some specialized abilities. Noah of Empathy…I wonder what Ezra could do?_

The Earl claps his hands together, creating the impression of a contemplative gesture. "Of course, Allen-chan. You may be the Fourteenth, but you do not seem to be able to utilize any of his Noah abilities yet. You wouldn't have been able to escape, even if you did, but it is surprising nonetheless. He is not nearly close enough to being awakened. And you also have yet to answer my question as to why you continue to resist."

 _Is he really that dense?_ Allen has to force back an angry growl. "Is it so hard to understand?" the young woman chokes out eventually. "Why would I willingly choose to throw away my humanity?"

"We Noah _are_ human, Allen Walker," the Earl drawls.

The white-haired girl shakes her head. "To become a Noah…is to abandon my post as an exorcist. To be forced to abandon my friends…to be forced to kill. The Order wouldn't be able to accept me after that—and what's worse, I know that I wouldn't be able to accept myself. If I become a Noah…my life is over, and I'm not ready to give up yet."

The Earl stays silent for a moment, and Allen cannot tell whether or not he has been angered by her lengthy explanation. Her worries are soon discarded when the sinister man lets out a low chuckle.

"Well put, Allen Walker. But tell me this: if you are so certain that you are meant to be an exorcist, then why do you believe that you were chosen as the host for the Fourteenth?"

Silver eyes widen at the large man's offending choice of words. _Surely it can't be that…?_ "Ch-chosen?"

"Why, of course. Surely you did not believe that your identity as a Noah was a result of pure coincidence? I'll grant you the fact that all humans do contain the potential gene to be awakened as a Noah, but only a select few are well-suited for the role—and therefore, they are singled out by the Noah memories in search of a host. This also means, as a result…that the Fourteenth chose you for a reason."

 _This can't be._ Is this the reason why Neah had been so reluctant to share information with her? Had it been because he was wary of her ever uncovering the truth about him—the fact that he had specifically targeted her? He knowingly chose her body to use as his own. Had he also been worried about her finding out the Fifteenth's identity? And the way he had glossed over Joyd's involvement…

"This is also the reason," the Earl goes on, not even bothering to address the sudden ghostly pallor of Allen's skin, "as to why Joyd's newest vessel, the human Tyki Mikk, bears a startling resemblance to the original Fourteenth's body."

"But…" A memory surfaces right then in the young woman's mind—one of her first face-to-face meeting with Neah, in which she had questioned him as to whether or not he was related to Tyki by blood. He had denied it, even while admitting to the white-haired girl that his resemblance to the Portuguese man is bizarrely uncanny. "Damn." The situation is strikingly similar. Even then, Neah had been withholding the truth from her. He had glossed over crucial information—but for what purpose? Was it to gain her cooperation? Does he believe that by keeping secrets and reassuring her that he is on her side, he will compel her to serve his greater purpose? But then, the white-haired girl ponders, if he had been more forthcoming, would she really have agreed to help him?

If he had told the whole truth, would she have even believed him?

The situation has changed, she concludes. The only thing that matters to her now is finding the truth.

"So you're saying…" she begins hesitantly, "that Joyd chose Tyki as his new vessel merely because he looks like the Fourteenth?"

The Earl makes a noncommittal noise that Allen cannot decipher. "His reasoning was probably not so simple. The Noah of Pleasure, true to his name, reasons with his emotions and his perceptions—that is what his memories are focused on, after all. For Joyd, choosing a vessel is not something he would think about consciously. It is something he chooses _sub_ consciously. This is one of his key differences from both the Fourteenth and Ezra, and from the other Noah as well."

"But why?" Allen practically growls. "Why is he so obsessed with the Fourteenth? I don't even know how he's involved! All I know is that he was killed a long time ago—or at least his last vessel was. Earl, can you explain to me…how he is so different from the other Noah?"

Allen sees Road tilt her spiky head out of the corner of her eye, and her eyes narrow in concentration. A sweat breaks out on the young woman's brow; they're a product of the same carnally vicious expectations that she always experiences in the young Noah's company.

She holds her breath as the Earl contemplates her question. True, she had noticed for herself how eccentric Tyki is, and had taken note of his mysteriously evasive behavior as of late. She still attributes it to a ploy, but both Neah and her nagging subconscious seem keen on refuting that assumption.

Perhaps, in part…it had been her fault. Perhaps her proximity and status as the Fourteenth had riled up the Noah that Tyki had been keeping under wraps. Is it true that Tyki is actively restraining the Noah memory? If so…could being near her, a prominent figure from his Noah's past, be offsetting his attempts? That definitely explains his sudden long absences from his room, and his subsequent shift in mood. He is trying to rein in Joyd, and retain his human side.

Briefly, Allen wonders which side, human or Noah, had been the one to rape her.

"Joyd is…" the Earl begins, causing the white-haired girl to lean in closer with rapt attention. "…above all else, lonely."

Allen pauses for a moment to digest the Earl's strange words. "Lonely?" she repeats in a baffled tone.

"I am sure that the Fourteenth already knows this, but for as long as I can remember, the Noah with the memories of Pleasure has been lonely. Being obsessed with the finer things in life, completely immersed in one's own self and own pleasure, leaves no room for concern for the wellbeing of others. And without concern for others beyond the bonds of family, how is it possible that one can _not_ become lonely?"

The Earl glances skyward, as if scrutinizing every crystal on the glossy chandelier. As Allen watches, his glasses glint with the reflection of tiny flames. "But thirty-five years ago, that seemed to change. Two new Noah appeared—the Fourteenth and the Fifteenth, and both were immediately welcomed into the family with open arms. The Fourteenth was odd, but at first only seemed polite and unobtrusive. He got along quite well enough with the other disciples.

"But Ezra, the Fifteenth, quickly became the most universally beloved member of the Noah Clan. She is an Empath, one who is capable of understanding and befriending all of those who cross her path. Her smile was radiant, and she treated everyone with kindness—in all of my time, I never once saw her harm a human—though she would always report back to me claiming that she accomplished a great slaughter. This should have been a warning sign, if any such suspicion were warranted by her behavior. But she seemed perfectly kind.

"She is an exceptionally strong Noah, to boot. Both her and the Fourteenth have remarkable abilities. It did not take long for her to be accepted within our family…and in time, she also became Joyd's closest confidant."

Allen releases a ragged breath, taken aback by the story's sudden shift. "Ezra and Joyd were…close?"

The Earl nods. "Yes, they were…though perhaps not as close as Neah and Ezra were." On the last few words, the Earl's voice takes on an extremely dark undertone, and the white-haired girl shivers in response to his barely-concealed rage. "Ezra was Joyd's first real friend, rather than a mere family member—or so he believed. And in time, I believe he even grew to cherish her presence as more than simple companionship. But unfortunately for all involved, Ezra's priorities lied with someone else—the Fourteenth. On the day that Ezra and the Fourteenth attempted to carry out their plan to destroy the Noah Clan, I can imagine only all too well the intensity of the betrayal that Joyd must have felt. I myself arrived at the scene only after the Fourteenth had already fled. All that remained in the house where the battle occurred were Ezra and Joyd's bodies. They turned to dust not long after, and their vessels vanished forever into the winds of time.

"I can still remember how close their bodies were. The heartbreak that Joyd must have suffered that day is indescribable." The Earl pulls out a ragged handkerchief, dabbing the area underneath his eyes in a morosely comically display of emotion.

Allen, meanwhile, can hardly believe her ears. In all of her imaginings of that day, she had never once pictured Joyd as being a victim—but then again, this story is from the Earl's twisted perspective. To him, such an act would be horrible. It stands to reason that he would cast both Neah and Ezra as being the instigators and the ones in the wrong.

But even so, there is one piece of information that is nagging away at the white-haired girl—something that she had never even considered relevant until today.

"Earl…if the Fifteenth was my grandmother…then do you know who my grandfather is?"

The Earl gives a short guffaw before cocking his head at the young woman. "That is a brilliant question, isn't it, Allen Walker?" the Earl asks in a teasing lilt. "That is something that I have wanted to know ever since I first discovered who you are."

Allen cannot stop her jaw from hanging open in distress. "You mean…you have no idea?"

"Unfortunately, no. I was not even aware at the time that Ezra had a child. She was not pregnant during her time with the Noah Clan. This is quite interesting, isn't it, Road?" he calls to the spiky-haired girl, who is still lounging beside the wall. "It's merely another mystery that I have yet to solve about you, Allen Walker."

* * *

_Just ignore it. Ignore it, finish the job, and get back to the Ark_.

Tyki tells himself this repeatedly, or maybe it's Joyd, as he is caught in a progressively fierce battle with his own nature. He isn't self-aware enough at this point to know whether or not his human identity is winning, and he is not entirely confident in his ability to resist. He attempts to ignore the heavily looming presence that is blooming within him; it's almost as if there is something ominous pressing outward from his insides, squirming just under his skin.

He knows who it is.

Even so, he tries to go about his business without giving in to a modicum of guilt.

Right now, the Noah is pursuing a female exorcist and a male Finder, only one of whom is Tyki's intended target. The fewer exorcists there are, the better, and it would be all the more satisfying if he got to take a lowly human out with her. Unfortunately for the human, he will merely die a senseless death from guilt by association, unable to protect one of the precious pawns of the Black Order.

This conclusion makes Tyki's insides squirm again, but not in a positive way; not in the way that the Noah of Pleasure had come to expect and seek thrill in before. Eliminating enemies of the Noah Clan has always been exhilarating, and while Tyki is far from being sickened by his actions, he is not finding this experience as pleasurable as he normally should be.

**Just ignore it.**

_I'm trying._

The pair cannot outrun or outmaneuver him for long, he is aware. Their clock is ticking.

The Noah phases through brick wall after brick wall, coming across more than a few dingy alleyways and the charming scent of human garbage.

_Hm…they're heading out of the city, are they? How thoughtful. This will make it easier for me to kill them._

After a few more minutes of alley-hopping, Tyki finally arrives on the outskirts of the pitiful French town. He leaps soundlessly to the ground, focusing all of his senses on the area around him.

**They're here.**

Behind the mask of beauty, a creeping sideshow grin blooms inside the golden-eyed man.

"Are you hiding from me, dear?" he calls out into the empty sky, addressing the female exorcist he had come to erase. "You're not even going to give me a proper fight? Allow me to pluck out a kidney or two, or perhaps a liver? How boring." The words feel slimy and superficial in his mouth; there is no spirit in them, no authentic brand of his usual mirth. But as the grin inside of him continues to grow, a sadistic smirk flashes across his features; he perceives a subtle rustling amidst the bushes, beyond the wall of trees.

_Are these Order members really so gullible? An invisible attack is to their advantage. Fighting with emotions is foolish._

**That is why they will die.**

Tyki stands still as the open air, eyes shut as if in deep thought…and smiles at the strangled cry of the exorcist he is hunting.

" _Cyrus! Don't!"_

It's too late.

The Finder has already burst through the cover of vegetation, heading straight for Tyki with a determined glare and a large branch.

" _Run, Esmé!"_

**Too slow.**

The Noah reaches out an ungloved hand, the fingers pointed straight for the man's chest—and in an instant, he hears the satisfying _squelch_ of punctured skin. Tyki grins maniacally at the Finder's startled expression, because how shocked can he really be that he was unable to harm a Noah? Yet at the same time, even as he relishes the image of a thin trail of scarlet oozing down the man's chin, he finds himself filled with incomprehensible anger…and sorrow.

**I've got you.**

In a flash and a _whoosh_ of air, Cyrus vanishes from Tyki's sight—just as he feels an invisible cord tighten around his ankle.

_Dammit!_

He cannot slide through, and just as Tyki realizes that the cord is made of Innocence, he is swept off his feet. He allows his body to follow the movement, landing a backflip while attempting not to trip over his own feet. Once settled, he looks forward, and makes eye contact with the exorcist he had been sent here to kill. She's a young, pretty brunette, with chin-length hair and baby blue irises. The Finder's arm is draped around her shoulders, the hole in his abdomen spilling blood onto her exorcist coat.

"Esmé," the Finder croaks out. "Leave me here. He can't kill you…"

"I'll be fine, Cy," she reassures him.

**Enough of this foolishness.**

Idly, Tyki muses that the pair looks like a couple, both pairs of eyes shining with concern and determination, stances mutually protective of the other.

_Why is this scene bothering me so much?_

**Ignore it. Kill them.**

Just as Tyki lunges for the couple, the young woman flicks her wrist. This time, the Noah sees the black cords that spring from the bracelet-type devices on her wrists. In a second, the girl latches onto the highest branch, and both her and the Finder vanish.

_She's fast._

_Whoosh!_

Another second, and Tyki sees her soaring high above him, leaping out of the trees with her wires all around her. He tries to step out of the way—only to realize that the cord that had wrapped around his ankle is keeping him from moving more than a foot in any direction.

In another instant, Tyki senses the girl's presence behind him, and feels the wind on his scalp where her foot moves through his head, slipping harmlessly through skin and skull.

"Brilliant," he comments dryly, "though not nearly good enough to land a hit."

With superhuman speed, Tyki steps backwards through her body—and plunges his arm forward.

A choked gasp escapes the girl's lips as his hand emerges from the front of her chest. Blood sprays in a ghastly shower from the wound, and it only takes seconds before her body starts to go limp. Tyki allows her body to slide messily to the ground, landing facedown in the crimson-tainted grass—and he draws in a sharp breath.

For an instant, as the girl's body falls, her hair gleams an unnatural shade of white. Panic momentarily seizes the Noah, his emotions unable to keep up with his mind when it tells him that it isn't Allen whom he had just impaled.

He also cannot say why it should bother him so much if it _had_ been her.

He hears a croak from a few feet above—the voice of the Finder whom she had hidden in the trees.

"Es…mé."

**Finish him off.**

_I may as well put him out of his misery._

Tyki lands quietly on the tree branch above him, his nerves still frazzled by the recent illusion his eyes had tricked him with. He finds the huddled man easily.

Cyrus glares upon seeing Tyki with such a level of disdain that the Noah briefly sees him with long hair, held back by a thin ponytail and with a scowl that sees no end. The blood on the man's face makes him look not unlike a cornered animal.

And Tyki, on the other hand, still caught up in the illusion of the hateful samurai, growls out his next words with paralyzing anger.

"Accept my condolences for the girl's body," the Noah spits at the Finder with a gleeful grin, "but I'm going to kill you now."

* * *

It's worse. It's getting worse, and it's _been_ getting worse since the moment he had gotten back to the Ark.

Scratch that—it's been getting worse since the moment Allen Walker had arrived in his life.

Bathing doesn't get the pesky ache out from between his eyes, nor does it banish the silent screaming from his ears. He is too close to her—he can sense the white-haired girl nearby, sitting silently in his room as she waits for him to return. She has nothing else to do with her time, after all. Nothing to do but wait for him, so that she can inevitably ignore him or be angry and resentful while still somehow hoping, beyond all rational belief, that her friends will come to save her. Her friends—which includes that goddamned samurai, the one who should never have existed to begin with. It infuriates him beyond belief that she should be so loyal to the exorcists and the Black Order, just as it infuriates him that she will not give him what he wants.

But what is it that he wants, exactly? He can recall asking himself a similar question not long ago, and he had responded with the same divided answer as he has now.

Does he want her deference? Her loyalty, such as she has shown to the Order? Her subservience and surrender to his whims?

Her love?

The Noah inside him scoffs at such a _naïve_ notion, rejecting the existence of love between anyone not of his mindset—no matter how tempting and tragically impossible such an affair would be.

**Not a traitor.**

There it is again. That word— _traitor_. Somehow, in his mind, Allen is a traitor—which makes no sense, given the fact that she has been against him and the Earl from the beginning.

What is this? What are these increasingly aggravated accusations of betrayal, which had been growing steadily more frequent ever since Tyki had first kidnapped the young woman from the Black Order Headquarters? The more time he spends around her, the worse these feelings become. He had been keeping his distance for a while now, wary of losing control and snapping with her present, not that he should care what happens to her anyway…

But he can't kill her. He isn't allowed, and after all that he has been through in the past few months, he is not certain that he wants to.

So why is he heading towards his room? Why is he opening the door and pushing it shut as he enters? Why doesn't he say anything when he goes inside, and instead chooses to stare blankly at the white-haired girl who is sitting cross-legged on his over-lavish bed?

The young woman starts when she sees him come in, her mouth falling open in a surprised " _O._ " She closes it halfway, giving him the distinct impression that she has something to say.

"…Tyki?"

"What?"

She bites her lip, her eyes piercing and full of worry as she seems to struggle with her next choice of words.

"Who are you?"

Her question catches him off guard, not because it seems strange to the Noah, but because it is decidedly _un_ -strange enough not to befuddle him in the slightest. In fact, this inquiry seems to be the most poignant one she has asked him so far—and it only unsettles the golden-eyed man more than he already is. It stimulates the frustration that is bubbling under his skin.

"What do you mean, girl? I am a Noah," he says, trying to placate her by not playing along with her games. He moves across the room and reaches onto the bedside table in search of a candle.

"That can't be it."

He scoffs. "And why is that?"

"What about _me_ , Tyki? What do you know about me? Why do you want to keep me here?"

**Die.**

"You must know—you must remember _something_."

 **I'll fucking kill you**.

"Do you know who I am?"

**Why did you do this to me?**

Even as he tries to resist, Tyki cannot help but to allow some of Joyd's anger to spill into his own hands, rattling the candleholder as he grips it tightly. _Why is she not stopping? Can she not sense the danger she is in?_

_Or perhaps she just does not care._

"…Tyki?"

**You broke my heart. You ruined everything.**

He wants to tell her to _stop talking, she's digging her own grave,_ but the words will not leave his mouth.

"Are…are you…okay?"

**Never.**

And, just as he had feared, he snaps.

* * *

Allen in unprepared for what happens next. Just as she asks if the Noah is okay—a level of concern she knows full well he does not deserve—she finds herself weightless, then heavy as lead as she is shoved belly-down onto the mattress.

She gasps as the wind is knocked out of her, unknowingly provoking the Noah further. His own body is poised over her own, his spread legs on either side of her torso. His hands pin her arms above her head, and he is surprisingly heavy—much heavier than she would have imagined for the golden-eyed man. Fear suddenly pulses through her as she recognizes his proximity—his face is mere inches from her own, his unsteady breaths of anger causing her to wonder worriedly about what she had said or done to trigger him so.

_Maybe he really is insane._

"Am I okay," he echoes tonelessly, his grip tightening on her wrists. "What do you think the answer is, _girl_?"

What is he getting at? "Tyki—" The white-haired girl is abruptly cut off, and lets out a pained yelp as the Noah releases one wrist and tangles his fingers in the hair close to her scalp. He yanks her head up and to the side, so as to force eye contact. Reflexive tears sting her eyes as they meet golden irises, eyes that are burning with the blaze of hatred—and is that… _pain_?

"How could I be okay," he says in a dark murmur, one so unlike his usual nonchalant voice, "when _you_ are always here?"

Allen chokes on her next words, her mouth opening and closing in shock. "I—"

"All you do is spread trouble—trouble and pain. Even after everything—why are you doing this to me? You should be nothing to me anymore. You betrayed us— _all of us._ _Why_?"

Her voice shakes as she squirms in his iron grip, and her movements become even more erratic as the hand that is not tangled in her white tresses moves lower.

" _Tyki!_ "

"You are a _traitor_. You deserve everything that happens to you…"

Her breath catches in her throat as she feels a hand sliding across her lower back…

"Shall I show you what you deserve?"

An especially violent tug leaves Allen's leggings bunched up at the tops of her thighs, her underwear following suit. A cry of desperation leaves her lips.

" _No!"_ _Not again—why now? Why this way?_

_I don't want this!_

But the more she struggles, the more constricting his grip becomes. Without relinquishing his hold on her hair, the Noah tears her blouse from her shoulders, leaving her skin vulnerable and bare. He hovers over her for a moment, and Allen knows that the act of undressing her is merely a way of asserting his dominance. He could have used his power to move through her clothing, if he had chosen to do so.

"Don't," she says weakly, panic starting to settle in her chest. Her heart must be racing fast enough to beat through her sternum.

Predictably, as she has found thus far whilst interacting with the Noah of Pleasure, he doesn't listen.

"Why are you so surprised?" he asks sarcastically. "You practically brought this on yourself," he spits, his breath warming her face, "when you _destroyed me_."

In her last few moments of coherency, Allen cannot help but to ask herself if this is really Tyki who is talking to her right now.

And then, he plunges into her.

And oh, _God_ —pain explodes in her core, pain so intense that it feels as though she is being stabbed from the inside. Tyki pierces her with such severe violence that it causes the young woman to release a strangled cry of agony. Unchecked tears leak down her pale cheeks.

This isn't like last time—this isn't even like the first time he had violated her. It's a raw, carnal act, an animalistic urge realized by the Noah and projected onto his captive.

It burns more than Allen could have ever imagined.

With every fierce, erratic thrust, the white-haired girl cries out, until she begins to bite down on her tongue. The ache drawn from her mouth mingles with the agony curling inside her abdomen, shooting up her spine to her fingers and toes, and back to her brutalized center. Tyki is relentless in his destruction of her body, frequently pulling on her hair and once, even sinking his teeth into her shoulder. This is the extent of his mouth's contact; he doesn't try to kiss her at all. All over her body, his hands squeeze and pinch with bruising force, which mercifully distracts her from the continuous onslaught on her womanhood.

A few minutes into his ravaging of her body, Allen closes her eyes, too wrapped up in her own self-disgust to even bother saying anything against him, and grips the bedcovers tightly in her fists.

_It will end soon…let it end soon, it hurts so much…_

Dimly, Allen recognizes the aromatic stench of blood. It's on her body, running from her bitten tongue and from between her legs, leaking out of the bite mark on her shoulder—his own way of marking her, she supposes, since what he's doing to her apparently isn't visible enough on its own.

Is this who Tyki Mikk is? A deranged psychopath, nothing more than a rapist and a murderer?

Or is this someone else? His ramblings would only make sense if…

 _Joyd_.

By the time the Noah finally finishes, with a haphazard thrust of his hips and a groan that nearly distracts Allen from the sudden warmth inside her, the young woman is barely conscious. Her limbs feel like jelly, and liquid fire is lapping at her core and inner thighs. Movement is futile; demands for justification are even more so. Lost in a daze of trauma and pain, the young woman allows herself one wish: that, if she is to open her eyes right now, she will not see Tyki hovering over her, but will be alone to wallow in this continuous nightmare.

As she cracks a silver eye open, Allen takes comfort in the fact that her hopes were never high to begin with. He will never go away—not ever.

She allows her eye to slide closed once more.

* * *

The illusion breaks as soon as he finishes. Tyki comes back down from his metaphorical high, feeling the presence of Joyd crawling restlessly beneath his skin. His vision is blurred, his mind hazy and tinged with the remnants of anger—so much wrath that it is sure to make his head explode. But still, he reins in his consciousness, and soon comes to recognize his surroundings.

And when he does, he realizes immediately what he's done. Of course, he remembers what has happened; he had been perfectly aware of what he had been doing while he had been doing it, but only now that it has happened, and the flood of pent-up aggression has passed momentarily, does he truly process it.

He notices with disgust that there's blood on his sheets, on his clothes, on his skin—and so much more on the girl beneath him. Her eyes are closed, he notes with brief panic, but two fingers placed strategically on her neck assuages his worry about her being dead. Her white hair is a disaster, soaked with both of their sweat and the blood that is still oozing from her shoulder. And her thighs, as well as his trousers, are absolutely stained with it.

The scene is at once horrifying and morbidly beautiful, even if it had ended up costing him a nice outfit. But for once, Tyki does not care about his clothing.

_What have I done?_


	16. A State of Mind

" _Are you crying, Yuu?"_

Crystalline droplets catch the skin of a porcelain hand, leaving a piece of themselves behind before continuing on in their descent to the ground.

" _It's okay to cry sometimes. It doesn't make you weak, like you always used to tell me. That's just big talk, you know."_

 _Yeah, right_. He wants to scoff, but finds that the simple gesture is worth far too much effort. He much prefers to stay trapped in his reclusive tendencies. "That's easy for you to say, idiot."

He hears a laugh, light and tinkling as the wind chimes that used to play on the porch of a barn. He remembers, but only barely.

" _Maybe that's true. But then again, maybe it's not. I was always more outwardly sensitive than you…but we're really not so much different, Yuu."_

He normally threatens to skin anyone who uses his first name, but it's familiar when she uses it.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he is no longer alone. He had thought that he was, but now it appears to the samurai that she has been with him the whole time. The woman—the young woman from his dreams, his childhood visions. He must be dreaming; she can't really be here.

"You're right about that," she agrees, nearly shocking him out of his composure when she materializes in front of him. She is standing, looking down at him where he sits against a nonexistent wall. She looks the same as she always does: long hair, done up in an effortless style, with her dress skirt puffed out around her. But, as is also usual, the finer features of her face continue to elude him.

"I'm not real. I'm just a dream—or, in your case, a memory," she tells him, a smile on her blurred face. Then, to Kanda's grave discomfort, she frowns. "And you're distressed."

"Tch. Obviously."

She sighs, raising her skirts so as to take a seat beside him. He shies away as her arm skims across his, uncomfortable with her alien touch.

"It's okay, Yuu," she tries to reassure him, her tone soothing. An easy grin places some of her features into clear contrast with the shadows around her, but does little else to make her image any more familiar to the Japanese man. "I won't hurt you. I'm not going to do anything."

He knows this much already—her presence is unassuming and benevolent—but he cannot do anything to tide the flow of his continuous distress. It's a habit long-formed from so many years of restless dreams, of stolen memories eager to reassert themselves in his subconscious.

"I can't help it," he defends, his tone perhaps a bit too harsh. "I still don't know who you are. Clearly…you were important. That's why I hate seeing you. I haven't seen you, dreamed about you, or even thought of you in so long. And…I'm more than ready to forget."

She doesn't say anything for a long while, and the long-haired samurai begins to believe that he has somehow insulted her—though that doesn't even come close to making sense, because she's a product of _his_ imagination, of _his_ thoughts and memories and perceptions, and therefore has no emotions of her own. Shadows of people may bear the same shape, but all they are is a cheap imitation; nothing more, nothing less.

"You want to forget…" she repeats, as if sounding out the words of a foreign language, "about me?"

"…Yes."

Kanda thinks she's looking at him, but he can't meet her eyes. They're not there, as far as he can tell.

"Is it because of her? The girl with white hair, Allen Walker?"

"The Moyashi," he corrects without thinking, cursing himself for being so transparent.

She laughs lightly, the sound good-natured and without the barest hint of malice. "It's so obvious, Yuu," she says in her tinkling voice, her dimples showing her honest happiness. "I'm not angry, you know. Quite the contrary—I'm happy for you."

The Japanese man arches a brow, skepticism probably written across his face.

"I know it must seem insane," she continues, "but I really am happy. I said that I would wait forever, and I will—but only if you want me to. If you truly love her…then be with her. I won't stop you, and I won't keep holding on to you. But it's not all on me. You have to let go of me, just as you told me you want to."

Now Kanda knows that he must have lost it. Is his own mind really giving him a pep talk? No woman in her right mind would spew such nonsense to a man she wants for herself. Then again, this is all in his mind anyway, so it's really _himself_ telling himself to forget about his quest to rediscover the mysteries of his life.

" _I mean it, Yuu,"_ she whispers, her voice now faint—Kanda quickly realizes that this is because she is no longer beside him. She has faded into the wind, once again departing to the catacombs of his subconscious.

"Why now?" he asks quietly, desperate to at least get a decent explanation for this bizarre dream. "I haven't even thought of you in months. Why is this happening now?"

" _Because in order to find the one you love, you have to truly let go of your old search. My time is past. You have to find her now."_

"I…"

" _Be happy, Yuu…"_

* * *

"Wake up, you lazy ingrate!"

An instinct to pummel the owner of the voice that rouses him overtakes Kanda's senses, but he keeps his irate expression hidden expertly in his bedsheets.

"Go away," he commands the red-haired General, which unsurprisingly fails to elicit the reaction he had been hoping for.

"After I'm done talking. Listen, boy, you mustn't tell Central what I've told you about my apprentice. Not a word, alright, Kanda? Lips sealed, hm?"

What the hell is going on? What is the idiotic General doing, talking about Central? Since when had they gotten involved?

"What's going on, Cross?" he demands, throwing off his covers and standing up to face the current bane of his existence.

"Oh, nothing," the man waves him off, instead focusing on taking another drag of his cigarette. "There's just a slight—"

_Creak._

Cross stops talking as the door to Kanda's room opens, revealing the imposing stature of a man whom the samurai finds about as tasteful as noodles that aren't of the soba variety.

Malcolm C. Leverrier.

"Good morning, General Cross," he says in an acidic tone. "Would you mind stepping outside for a moment?"

* * *

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

There is a clock somewhere in the room. Allen cannot see it, but she can hear it amidst the imposing background silence of the large bedroom. And _of course_ there is a clock—what bedroom in this day and age _doesn't_ have a clock, ticking and ticking away the hours and minutes and seconds of eternity? Despite the fact that they are in an interdimensional Ark devoid of the physical laws of the real world, time still inevitably passes for the Noah. Superhuman they may be, or perhaps not human at all, but they are still caught in the unyielding onward flow of nature.

So of course there is a clock.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

It's absolutely incessant—the ticking, that is. It's never-ending, dragging on and on in spite of the young woman's conscious attempts to slow it. It resonates inside her skull, rattling around like the toys of small children, toys that she never had, and growing louder and louder as time slips past her like water in a stream, flowing past her ankles and down into the rocky depths that bloom behind her.

What an illusion.

The white-haired girl knows she isn't in a stream; she isn't even on Earth.

She's still here.

But where else can she go? Pretending she is somewhere else distracts her, even if only for a moment, from her bleak reality.

 _Tick. Tick. Tick_.

In her stupor, Allen notices that the wallpaper is peeling, but only near the top; beautiful off-white paint cracks and crumbles indiscriminately, revealing strings of burgundy, once deep and rich but now faded and dried like old blood. It needs to be painted over, to be washed away like the blood between her thighs that has miraculously disappeared. Like the bruises that dot her fair skin, the ones that have been concealed cleverly by a long-sleeved blouse, perfect and pristine as it should be.

As everything should be.

As she is.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Allen wonders for a brief moment who it is that had cleaned her. She cannot recall having bathed herself; she muses on whether or not the Noah had done it himself, or if he had gotten an Akuma maid to do it for him. She remembers fuzzily drifting in and out of consciousness, not because of any real injury, but because of something inside her, something that is keeping her from grasping too long to any shred of coherence. She remembers hands touching her, sliding over her skin as if afraid of causing any more damage…

Is this insanity? Not that it really matters…just as it does not matter if it had been the Noah of Pleasure who had taken care of her. He has already seen all that her body has to offer, at least in terms of visuals. He can use and abuse her body for all it's worth, but the young woman is still unsure of his capacity to care for another.

At least, not as long as that monster is inside him. Perhaps if he weren't a Noah…

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

The white-haired girl also wonders where Neah is. Perhaps that isn't the proper word to use—his location is subjective—but she cannot be bothered to find another. She hasn't spoken to him—if the term "speaking" can even be applied to what it is that they do—ever since before she had learned of Ezra's existence.

No—not Ezra. _The Fifteenth_ , she reminds herself—because the Fifteenth is no relative of hers. She abandoned her, her grandchild, and still, she is nowhere to be found. Surely, if Neah has reincarnated, she has as well. Has she given up on defeating the Earl, as she had tried and failed to do thirty-five years ago? What is she doing, wherever she is?

No—the Fifteenth is not Allen's family. She doesn't know her. Mana is her only family, and Neah…Neah is a liar.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Allen has not moved from her near-motionless position since she had regained partial consciousness, and her eyes continue to drift open and closed lazily.

Tyki has not been back since then either.

The only method she has for telling how long it's been is by counting the endless monotone ticks of the clock. This is the tape that is holding together the cracks of her sanity, but it is also the stimulus that is driving her closer to the brink of it. It seems as though her entire world is dependent on these ticks. It's hilarious, in a morbidly depressing way, that the fabled Destroyer of Time is so fragile, so breakable; the white-haired girl would laugh if she weren't absolutely certain that doing so will cause her to shatter into a million tiny pieces.

 _Tick. Tick. Tick_.

She _will_ shatter. She is sure of it. Every day leads her closer and closer to a fate that she is becoming less capable of resisting. When is the last time that she had smiled honestly, without any irony or masochistic glee? When is the last time she has thought of her friends without wondering pessimistically whether or not they are still alive, or if they truly had perished during Tyki's siege on Headquarters? When is the last time she had actively tried to resist Tyki's assaults on her body, or been able to control the endless tide of her emotions?

And when, Allen wonders with hatred and self-disgust that rivals what she feels for the monster who has imprisoned her, is the last time that she had followed through on her promise to Mana? When is the last time that the white-haired girl had even thought about it?

For the life of her, she cannot remember.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

And it is in moments such as these, when the young woman begins to not only question herself, her beliefs, and her values, but also her perceptions and memories, that she wonders with stark fear if she hasn't already broken.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

And still, the ticking continues.

* * *

It's been three days. Three days, which, in the span of time perceived by a Noah, is more or less equivalent to a millisecond.

However, it begins to feel so much longer, so drawn out and infinite when his days are being plagued by a plethora of unwelcome emotions, none the least of which is guilt. The violence of that day has stayed with him, the image of Allen's battered and distressed body burned into his retinas with utmost permanence. It's there when he closes his eyes, and is superimposed onto the images of the humans and exorcists he has killed in the meantime. He feels the guilt as vividly as he had the pleasure in that moment, and he cannot begin to explain why.

Guilt is only one of the emotions he feels, however, in the grand scheme of things; he is also nervous, his body plagued with an anxious fever; he is conflicted and overwhelmed, unable to regain his emotional footing no matter how hard he tries.

Why?

Because on the morning of the second day after his most violent interaction with her, Allen Walker had stopped eating. Not only that—she had stopped talking as well. She had stopped…well, everything. She is basically unresponsive at this point. He doesn't know why, but he knows how, and that memory haunts him with its clarity—mostly because it isn't a hunger strike, or anything of the sort.

He doesn't know what it is.

He had arrived early, at seven, and left a tray of breakfast foods—her favorites, he knows from experience—on the bedside table. Later that day, when he had come to deliver her lunch, it was still there—cold, slimy, and completely untouched. Not even the silverware had been moved.

By nightfall, she still hadn't eaten a single bite.

And now, throughout all of today, the third day, she has been all but catatonic, refusing to move or open her eyes in his presence. He doesn't even know if it is technically categorized as refusal; he cannot tell if she is truly asleep when he comes in, but no amount of cajoling, talking, murmuring her name, or even offering colorful threats will compel her to respond.

He doesn't know what to _do._

* * *

It's the fourth day now, and as Tyki ventures towards the room he had long ago stopped inhabiting, he finds himself once again at a loss for ideas. He has brought food with him, just in case she decides to break out of her unresponsive state, but the Noah does not harbor high hopes for that occurrence. Still, it's probably the least he can do for her until he is able to figure out how to bring the young woman back to the world of the living. If he stops offering her food, she will simply starve to death, and the Noah will cut off his fingers and toes before he allows that to happen.

He will not allow her to leave him.

He lets himself into the room slowly, in an effort not to make any startling noises, and sets the overburdened tray down on the table before turning to face the white-haired girl.

The vision of her causes Tyki to clench his fists.

She is buried beneath the comforter but for her head, her prone position largely unchanged from where she had been yesterday. Aside from her head being tilted a bit more towards the wall, she has not moved; for a moment the Noah of Pleasure worries that she will develop bed sores from being still for so long, but brushes off that concern for the current moment.

Her face is entirely concealed by her pillow, her white hair stringy and greasy from being confined to a bed for so long. He had washed it for her two days ago, having been put off by how neglected it had been, but the silky locks now seem as dirty as if she had been letting them go unwashed for three years. The sight provokes a dull ache in his chest, and he makes no attempt to shove it away.

"Allen," he tries, the name tasting bitter on his tongue, "can you hear me?"

She gives him no response; the fact that he had not expected one does not lessen the ache he feels. He sighs, smoothing out the bedcovers beside her before taking a seat next to her prone form.

With all the gentleness he is able to muster, Tyki slides an arm beneath her shoulders, and lifts her body into a mock sitting position. Her head lolls to the side, and her white hair obscures her eyes from his sight. Without musing on his actions, the Noah uses his unoccupied hand to brush the lingering strands away—and nearly drops her when he finds her silver eyes staring back at him.

 _She's awake?_ "Allen?" He furrows his brows when he takes notice of something strange. She isn't looking at him. Far from it; she appears to be staring right through him, her eyes dull and downcast as if blind. "Allen?"

Her hands clench the sheets between them when he repeats her name, but apart from that she displays no other mental response. It's almost as though she isn't even conscious, despite the fact that her eyes are open. It's almost as though…she isn't even _there_.

Tyki resists the sudden urge to vomit, and instead focuses on getting her to eat some of the food he had brought. He turns her around so that she is leaning against him, her back to his chest and his chin propped up on the crown of her head. With imperceptibly shaking fingers, he grabs one of the only maneuverable items off of the tray: a French roll. He tears off a piece and brings it the white-haired girl's lips. Still, she doesn't respond, passively ignoring the food in spite of the fact that she must be close to starving at this point. With her appetite, Tyki is certain that her stomach is dangerously close to digesting itself.

Frustrated, he continues to insist. "You have to eat _something_ , girl. Otherwise you'll starve to death. We wouldn't want that, would we?" He pauses, his thoughts now moving in a different direction. "It would be a shame to see you waste away. I…need you to eat something, Allen."

Tyki has never talked to another person—an exorcist, nonetheless—with such humility in all of his life. Not even the Earl has ever bared witness to his lowly side, if he is at all aware that he harbors one.

And, ironically, the one person whom he has humbled himself for is not even conscious to see it.

In his mounting frustration, Tyki grabs the girl's jaw, prying her lips apart in another attempt to force-feed her.

" _Eat_ ," he commands, his tone livid, "or I'll force the bread down your throat, girl."

But he already knows, in spite of his words and explicit threats, that he will do nothing of the sort. Why bother to enact threats on the young woman if she is not even awake to hear them? Besides, he doesn't trust himself not to accidentally choke her in the process.

Doing so, Tyki believes, would reveal to himself the full extent of his emotional disarray, how truly desperate her catatonia is making him.

 _It shouldn't matter_ , he tells himself. _She is just a prisoner—an enemy of the Earl, no less, and an exorcist who will be destroyed just like all the others once Lord Millennium has no further need for her. She means nothing in the larger picture of the world—she is just another human, whose measly, short life will vanish once her time runs out. That's all she is_.

Yet the Noah of Pleasure knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this is not all that Allen Walker is. She never has been—not to him, at least.

Not anymore.

A shot of anger-fueled adrenaline runs through his veins, and Tyki pelts the bread roll across the room, watching with glowing eyes as it lands with a harmless _poof_ on the floor. Growing more enraged by the minute, at himself and at his situation, the golden-eyed man shoots off of the bed and does the same to the rest of the untouched meal. He overturns the entire tray, dumping its contents onto the plush carpet without any regard for the stains it will create. With comical violence, he smashes the silver platter against the wall, staring in hatred as it rattles against the floor but does not break. He does the same with the glass of water, only this time, it does. The goblet shatters into tiny pieces as the white-haired girl herself had done only days before.

With the supply of silverware and dishes exhausted, Tyki looks around the room for another innocent object to release his frustration on; the instinct to destroy is strong at this moment, the inclination to break and distort something beyond recognition, as had been done to himself as of late.

In the shattered pieces of the plate, his reflection is twisted, made indecipherable by its unfortunate state. Tyki scours the room, searching the walls and floors for another breakable object—until his vision lands upon the one thing here that, right now, is the most breakable object of all.

He had not been gentle when he had discarded the white-haired girl; Allen is lying in a crumpled heap on the bed, her glassy eyes peeking through wiry bangs and looking sadder than Tyki had ever seen them.

If he were a fanciful man, he would have said that she is sad for him.

Now regretting, perhaps, his rash actions, he returns to her side, lifting her once again into his arms. He leans her head against his chest, shivering at the warmth she radiates into his heart. This he may mean in a figurative sense as well, but he finds himself too stubborn to admit such a thing.

He cannot allow himself to become unhinged by her. To do so would be dishonorable, out of character, and completely inappropriate for someone of his kind. She is only a human! She is unfit for someone such as he.

For how long he has been telling himself this, Tyki is remarkably talented at ignoring his own advice. Before, when he had first captured her, his emotions had not been so strong; it had been relatively easy to fool himself into believing her to be some sort of pet, a trophy from his attack and a hard-earned reward.

But now, after spending so much time in her company, becoming more and more enveloped by her intoxicating presence, he knows full well in his heart that he had been wrong.

Yet, he still will not allow himself to admit the implausible: that after so long spent thinking of her, basking in her company and the joining of their bodies in an act more poignant than anything else he had ever done, he has actually begun to _care_ for her.

And as he brushes her hair away from her eyes, catching a glimpse of a solitary tear drifting down her pale cheek, Tyki knows that this realization is something he is unprepared to handle.

* * *

She hears.

She hears everything, sees everything, and feels everything, even though she doesn't want to.

But what can she do to avoid it, with even the strength in her limbs failing her? It's not as though she can simply turn off her senses whenever she wants; no, such an occurrence is not afforded to her by choice. It is a curio of happenstance.

So she does nothing, as she has been very prone to do lately, and in all honesty, would have done even if she had not been close to the breaking point.

For a moment, Allen believes that Tyki is going to hurt her again in his rage, that he will shatter her bones as he is doing to the goblet. She doesn't even know if she _wants_ to resist, if there is any point in her efforts. With her luck, however, she would probably end up fighting back anyway, and causing herself more grief in the process.

But he doesn't even try to hurt her, to her genuine shock, and instead does exactly the opposite of what the white-haired girl is accustomed to.

She should have expected as much from him, since he never seems to do what it is that she expects.

He gathers her in his arms once again, and she is careful to remain limp and boneless. He presses her ear to his chest in such a way that allows her to feel every beat of his heart, every rhythmic pump of blood through his veins.

Funny. It's almost as though he has a heart. The young woman is inclined to believe that he doesn't have one, but it appears, once again, that she is wrong. His actions are completely contrary to what he had been doing moments ago—even worse, they are the exact opposite of what he had done to her…how long has it been? Days? Weeks? Allen has lost count, but she knows that it cannot have been weeks—she would be dead by now, surely, unless he had been feeding her.

But from what she has just seen, he isn't one to persist in the act of force-feeding an unconscious girl.

Such confusion this man always manages to elicit in her, from his cruelty to how desperate and emotional he had been acting only minutes prior. She tries to keep her head on straight, but she has no luck. Why can't he be solidly evil? At least that way, she would not harbor these conflicting emotions; she would know exactly where it is that she stands in his eyes, free of bewildering gestures from him that are almost bipolar in nature; free of multiple accounts of sympathy for the Noah that gives him his memories.

But nothing is ever so simple or straightforward, especially not the devilishly odd Noah who has stolen her from everything she knows. It breaks her heart to know that Tyki has not always been this way, that he once had an actual life before Joyd's memories attempted to take hold of him. She has no idea what his pure, natural personality had been like, but the white-haired girl knows that it cannot possibly be any worse than this insanity that seems to permeate his soul. He must have been better, once upon a time.

They both were.

And most of all, it breaks her heart to know that she should hate him with every fiber of her being—and she does, but she is beginning to question just who the person she hates _is_.

A single tear worms its way out of her eye, helped along by the gentle caress of a gray hand against her face.

"I don't know if you can hear me, girl, but I hope that you do," he says, his voice rumbling soothingly against her ear.

 _It's better to say nothing_ , Allen thinks, so she doesn't.

"I don't usually do this," the Noah goes on. "It's unbecoming of me. But…I am… _sorry,_ for what I did to you four days ago. You may not believe me—in fact, I know you don't, but I am."

Allen holds in her sob, reacting to the fact that she finds it virtually impossible _not_ to believe him when he speaks with such an honest tone.

But she doesn't want to.

* * *

He's gone by nightfall, off on another mission for the Earl—probably to kill more humans. (He had told her that he was leaving, and Allen is still dubious on whether or not he truly believed her to be asleep.)

However, the white-haired girl knows that she is not alone. She can sense the imposing presence on the other side of the door, and knows who it is without any preamble or need to see the young Noah's smiling face.

Road Camelot opens the door with no issue, stepping inside as though the room is her own.

"Hello, Allen-chan," she says, her tiny voice sounding almost wistful. "How are you feeling today?" Allen wants to scoff at the touch of concern in her voice. She ignores the spiky-haired girl; she is not in the mood for her demented games. "I know you're awake," the young girl continues. "Don't bother playing dead."

_What does she want?_

The young girl comes closer to the bed, making Allen's nerves ignite with dread and adrenaline. She cannot help it; her self-preservation, at least, is still somewhat intact, even if her sanity isn't. As Road leans over her, the young woman rolls over on instinct, coming face-to-face with the Noah.

"Ha!" the girl accuses. "I _knew_ you were awake!"

Allen sighs, closing her eyes in defeat. "What do you want, Road?" She cannot see the girl's face, but the young woman is one hundred percent certain that she is grinning maniacally. The white-haired girl wonders what sort of torment the little girl has in mind this time around.

"Hold still, Allen-chan."

_What?_

All of a sudden, Allen feels a heavy weight being lifted from her being. It's as if she's been freed of two tons of steel, her body now lighter than it had been in months.

And then she realizes what's happened.

Road has cut off her handcuff.

Allen stares at the young girl with huge, suspicious eyes, dumbfounded by the gesture. Does she want to fight her?

Road shrugs, grinning at the young woman's stupefied face. "Don't try anything on me, alright, Allen-chan? You won't be able to kill this body, and even if you did get past me, the others are still in the Ark.

"Tyki, on the other hand, you might be able to catch off guard. Just make sure you keep wearing long sleeves, and wait for an opening—I'll let you know when the other Noah are gone, and then you can make a break for it." The girl pouts, her cheeks puffed out indignantly. "I'm so disappointed! I didn't get to play with you _once_ —I really wanted to spend more time with you. Oh, well. We'll have time for that later, ne?"

The girl turns around and heads toward the door, paying no mind to Allen—who is at present convinced that this is all a bizarre dream.

"Oh, and by the way," Road says, turning around to stare at the white-haired girl with a serious expression. "You'd better not try to kill Tyki, or hurt him too badly. Just knock him out. If you hurt him, Allen-chan…I'll kill you myself."


	17. A Feeling of Love

After Tyki's outburst and subsequent departure, the Noah of Pleasure does not return to his room for over twenty-four hours. It feels even longer after Road's strange visit, and it is after the young girl leaves that Allen begins to keep track of time once again. She waits with bated breath and fevered anticipation for the Noah to return, unsure of what will happen when he does. In her anxiety, the young woman strips off her clothing and takes a bath, combing the knots out of her hair with obsessive determination.

What if he finds out that her bracelet is gone? What if she can't manage to keep it hidden? What if this is all just a sick ploy of Road's—some side entertainment for her while she waits for the Earl's plans to come to fruition? Even so, Allen does as Road advises her to do, and puts on a long-sleeved blouse to hide her bare wrist. What other choice does she have? It's not as though her prospects for escaping look much better when she has only herself to rely on—herself and the rescue party from the Black Order that seems as though it will never come.

And then she waits for her captor to come back.

He does, eventually, with little grandeur and the promising scent of food accompanying him.

An intense sensation not unlike electricity overcomes the white-haired girl as she sees him, and she is reminded suddenly of their last one-sided encounter—when he had apologized to her for his violent desecration of her body, and held her as though she actually _meant_ something to him.

Tyki, for his part, nearly drops the tray of food when he sees her, sitting tall and upright at the edge of the bed.

Her stomach growls insistently, but Allen resists the urge to dive mindlessly for the platter of food.

The two stare at each other for a tense moment, with Allen unsure as to what she should say to him, if anything at all. "Hello" seems far too comical for the situation. "I forgive you" is even more ludicrous, because those words seem to have vanished from her vocabulary entirely. So instead, she goes with her instincts.

"Can I…can I eat now?"

Wordlessly, Tyki sets the platter down on the table, and the young woman dives on it with all the fervor of a starving animal. The Noah watches her with a strange expression as she eats, as though he is looking at a ghost rather than the girl whom he had trapped in his lavish prison.

"You're awake," he says in a hollow voice, one that seems to question the authenticity of his statement. "For how long?"

Allen swallows the pork loin after only three chews, rinsing it down with water so as not to choke. "I'm…not sure," she lies. "But I…I had a very strange dream." Another lie—but he doesn't need to know that. She's thought this through; and just as the white-haired girl had hoped, Tyki's brows furrow at her statement.

"A dream?"

"Yes," she confirms, now somewhat nervous. If he doesn't buy her act, she may as well stab herself in the heart. "You…you told me that you were sorry…for what you did." She laughs then, the sound humorless and intended to be grating to his ears. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but—"

"I am."

She hadn't expected that. Her eyes flick over to him, and Allen tries to convey her confusion in them. "What?"

Tyki also appears to be befuddled by what he's said, and seems to be struggling just to find a way to clarify his thoughts.

She doesn't give him a chance. Now isn't the time to allow herself to be confused by his dubious morality; she needs to focus on the task at hand. "Nevermind," the young woman says, casting her eyes away from the Noah. "You don't have to be crueler than you already are. I just want to tell you that…I'm tired of resisting you. After last time…I don't think I have it in me anymore. I'm not even sure the Order will want me back if I ever leave here, as…as damaged as I am. So…" She returns her silvery gaze to the Noah, who is staring at her with an expression that she cannot comprehend. It's like nothing she's ever seen on him before, and it nearly causes her words to freeze in her throat.

"It's over," she says in a whisper. "I won't fight you anymore."

* * *

As the weeks start to fly by her with an increasing lack of clarity, Allen begins to notice a pattern emerging in her life. She will wait for days, sometimes even weeks, before Road comes back to talk to her. And always, she waits for the spiky-haired girl to tell her the words she is yearning to hear.

And so, Allen finds herself more than disappointed when she continuously doesn't.

Her admission of defeat to Tyki had been built on the assumption that one of these days, Road will give her the go-ahead to make her escape. After all, she can't very well go charging out into the Ark blindly; to do so would be tantamount to suicide. She needs someone to be her lookout, her eyes and ears in the arena that she isn't a part of.

So she waits, appeasing Tyki in every way imaginable while hoping that one day soon, Road will tell her it's time. Allen doesn't think she can bear having to be around her emotionally confusing captor for much longer without diving back into the abyss of insanity; she's been there before, and only an extremely vague promise of escape had saved her from it. If he violates her again…She doesn't even want to think about it.

But always, no matter how Allen prays otherwise, Road always comes to her with reassurances and requests to remain patient. Today is no exception.

"Sorry, Allen-chan," Road says with a bored expression, twirling a lock of her white hair around her finger. "Devitto, Jasdero, and Father are still here. It isn't safe for you to escape yet."

The white-haired girl really wants to hit something right now, but she figures that the only result of doing so would be to anger Tyki—and she isn't about to let her false confession of surrender go to waste. Not now—not after everything.

"Why can't you distract them?" Allen presses, searching for any possible way around the prospect of waiting for another few days. "If you do, I might have time to get away."

" _Might_ ," Road repeats, wagging a finger at the white-haired girl. "You can't afford to get caught, Allen-chan. Getting past Tyki and the Earl will be hard enough in your condition. Plus, the others will know that I had something to do with it if you conveniently manage to escape while I'm distracting them. It won't work."

She already knows that. She knows, but that doesn't stop her from suggesting it. "I know…but I don't think I can survive for much longer in here. I have to get out." Who would have guessed that Allen Walker, the supposed Destroyer of Time, would be pouring her concerns out to a Noah?

Road's characteristically devious eyes soften at the defeated tone of the young woman's voice. Allen feels her heart skip a beat at the contrasting image.

"I know, Allen-chan…but you have to wait just a little bit longer. Try to be patient, okay?"

Allen nods, but the gesture is half-hearted. She is very, _very_ tired of being patient.

* * *

There is something wrong with her; he can sense it. The Noah of Pleasure isn't normally one to be in tune with the emotions of others, given his selfish inclinations, but this is something else entirely. Allen Walker is probably—no, definitely—the first person to ever affect him in such a way, to make him think and consider things beyond his usual self-centered realm of consciousness. She instills in him a sense of obligation to her without even asking; she demands an iota of consideration for her wellbeing, even while she vows to never help him in any way, shape, or form. She is his sworn enemy, and yet he has an undeniable instinct to look out for her as though she is not—and at the same time, he is filled with an urge to tear her flesh from her bones.

This also means, of course, that her declaration of surrender strikes a chord in him.

"Girl," he says as he enters the room, this time with no food in tow. This is not a routine meal visit; this is his curiosity, plain and simple, that drives him to see her—even if doing so makes him feel as though his head is being split in two.

There are other emotions that convince him to visit her, but these are decidedly less innocent—one is telling him to throttle her for reasons still unclear to him (Joyd's bloodlust, he is guessing), while the other is telling him to hold onto her, to grab her and never let go.

He ignores both of them.

"…Yes?" she says in response, the side profile of her face all that is visible to him. Her silver eyes are downcast, her posture slouched and weak in appearance. A chill runs through him at the sight.

What has happened to her? He knows the answer—him—but that doesn't stop him from asking the question. She had always been so strong, so resilient—even when he had taken her the first time and destroyed her Innocence, she had refused to give up afterwards. Has he finally succeeded in breaking her spirit? Despite the fact that he had tried to do so many times now, and had always thrilled himself at the thought…now that it has finally happened…it is nowhere near as satisfying as he had pictured it. It isn't satisfying at all. As a matter of fact, he hates it—loathes it, even. He despises her, the white-haired girl who had captured him, for what she has become.

For what he has done to her.

"What's wrong with you, girl?" he berates her, his golden eyes illuminated with fire. "Why aren't you retaliating? Say something snarky to me, at least. Perhaps you would like to spit in my face again? Quit being such a bore, Allen." He supposed that he could have phrased it more nicely, but he wants to get a rise out of her; rudeness should more than suffice for his goal.

So it is even more frustrating to the Noah when it doesn't work.

"I already told you," she says quietly, her eyes still glued to the wall before her. "I won't fight you anymore. I already tried, and I failed. I thought that this was what you wanted. A prisoner who is nothing more than your willing ragdoll. Right, Tyki?"

He scoffs at her, his lips peeling back from his teeth in a frustrated snarl. "That was what made you so intriguing in the first place, girl. You had spunk—you were full of wit and fire. You were even more vigorous on the battlefield—even when you were knocked down, you still tried to get back up. You challenged _me_ , a Noah, even when all the odds were against you. But now look at you, girl! You are dull, lifeless—you are less engaging than a corpse. No—even worse than that. At least corpses will thrash about a bit before they finally give out. You don't even do that. Where did all of your spirit go, Allen?"

Tyki finds himself practically panting by the end of his speech, but he cannot bring himself to regret his words.

But then, as soon as she turns to look at him, he wishes that he could reverse the flow of time. Dead gray eyes, no longer full of that remarkable spark he had seen so long ago during their first meeting, fix onto his own. The words she speaks are accusatory, and in spite of his pride, Tyki knows beyond a doubt that they are true.

"Perhaps…you took it from me."

* * *

When Allen is awoken by the sound of the doorknob being turned, she expects it to be Tyki once again. She sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with clenched fists, and prepares herself for another onslaught of emotional bombardment from the Noah of Pleasure.

However, she is both surprised and nervous when she sees Road standing before her instead of the brooding Noah. Has she counted her days wrong? The spiky-haired girl had been to see her only two days ago. Has something happened?

Allen stares questioningly at the young girl, who smiles in response in her typical skin-crawling fashion.

"It's been seven weeks since I cut off your bracelet, Allen-chan," she informs the white-haired girl, who is internally blown away by the massive span of time that has apparently passed.

 _Has it really been so long? Add the seven weeks to the amount of time I'd already spent in the Ark before that…it must be months already since I've disappeared. Months—is the Order even still searching for me? Have they given up by now? No…they wouldn't_. "So what?" the young woman says irritably.

"And now it's time for you to leave."

Allen almost can't believe her ears. Her head snaps up to gaze hopefully at the youngest Noah, and she shoots to her feet with more vitality than she has displayed in some time.

"What did you say?" she questions Road.

The young girl holds her hands up in a placating gesture. "Calm down, Allen-chan. I know you want to leave, but don't freak out." She glances around herself, as though wary of being watched. "Now is the perfect opportunity for you to get out of here and get back to the Order. All of the other Noah are gone, except for me, Tyki, and Lord Millennium, of course. I told the Earl that I was going to go find Lero, so he's expecting me back in a few minutes. Tyki's already on his way back here. I'll be with Lord Millennium, so all you have to do is get past Tyki, and hopefully the Earl won't notice you. Be prepared if he does, though."

The young Noah makes to leave, but Allen stops her with a frantic cry. "Wait! How am I even supposed to escape? I don't even know how to get off of the Ark!"

Road glances at her with a quizzical expression. "Of course you do, silly. You're the Fourteenth! Just use your Noah abilities. It's not like you're trapped in Ezra's cell or anything."

Allen's eyebrows furrow at Road's bizarre statement. "Ezra's cell?"

Road sighs, placing a hand on one of her hips. "You know, the cell Lord Millennium stuck you in when you first got here? It was all a test just to see if you were the Fifteenth or the Fourteenth. Only the Fifteenth has the ability to control it—that's the way it was designed. I created it for her. If you were Ezra, you would have been able to escape. Lord Millennium is less concerned about catching Ezra than he is about finding out whether or not she's reincarnated already. But you, on the other hand…" The spiky-haired girl steps closer, a tiny smile lighting up her face. "You, the Fourteenth, can control this Ark's movements. If you focus, it'll come to you."

With a quick hug for the white-haired girl, Road skips towards the door, pausing only to tell Allen one last thing.

"And be quick about it, Allen-chan. This might be your only chance."

* * *

It irks him to no end—as everything seems to be doing these days—but Tyki finds that Allen's words still haven't left him.

Either the world is becoming more hazy and confusing, or he is becoming more cynical. Perhaps it's a bit of both.

Even though he knows that he has more _important_ things to consider—the Earl's plans for her, included—the Noah of Pleasure cannot find it within himself to forget what she had said to him.

He sighs; instead of dwelling miserably over the white-haired girl's recent change in temperament, he attempts to busy himself with gathering more food for her.

Which, coincidentally, does absolutely _nothing_ to take his mind off of the young woman.

As he irritably waits for the Akuma maid to prepare his requested meal, he feels a looming presence behind him. Without glancing behind him, he knows that it is no one else but the current bane of his existence, Sheril. (One of them, at least. Thank heavens that he doesn't have to spend too much time with him.)

"Hello, Sheril," he says in a bored voice. "I thought that the Earl gave you a mission." Tyki doesn't say what he really wants to—that he would prefer to be left alone right now.

But, as usual, Sheril completely disregards Tyki's nonverbal cues. He slides an arm across the younger man's shoulders, pulling him in for a brotherly embrace that the other Noah finds repulsive. He resists the sudden inclination to vomit.

"It's lovely to see you as well, Tyki," the odd man admits, a dreamy smile on his face. "I am to depart in a few minutes. I've just been to see Road, and I could not help but to pay you a visit too."

"Is that so," Tyki says lazily, unable to muster even the smallest amount of fake curiosity into his voice.

"You wound me, dear brother," Sheril sighs melodramatically, placing his other hand over his heart. "You could at least act interested or happy to see me. What's wrong? Is there trouble in paradise? Perhaps with that exquisite… _exorcist_ you have been seeing?"

"I would appreciate it if you ceased your incessant babbling," Tyki responds with a disgruntled tone. "It's very annoying."

"That means I am right, doesn't it?" the older Noah coos. "What a shame. Have you tired of the girl already, Tyki? I cannot say I didn't see this coming; you always seem to jump so quickly from one to the next. Perhaps you should simply hand her over to Lord Millennium. Surely he would take care of her for you, and then you would be able to find a proper wife—"

" _Quiet_ , Sheril!" Tyki snaps suddenly, throwing his brother's arm off of his shoulder with an audible _thwack_. He distances himself from the other Noah, finding that he is nothing short of disgusted by the very thought of turning Allen over to his master. If he were to hand her over to the Earl, who knows what would happen to her? More of Wisely's torture, probably.

"I am sick of you interfering," he tells Sheril in a low whisper. "As I said before, you are not involved in this. Lord Millennium placed her under _my_ care, which means that it is _my_ decision what happens to her. You have no say."

"Pardon me, Noah-sama," the Akuma maid interjects, visibly shrinking under the sudden glare shot her way by Sheril. "Your meal is prepared."

"Bring it, then!" the Noah of Pleasure snaps at the maid, who immediately scurries off to do as he says.

Tyki pointedly ignores the cold look that Sheril is sending in his direction, and makes for the door as though he had not just treated him with the utmost disrespect. He nearly shivers at the undisguised malice in his brother's voice as he steps through the doorway.

"I am leaving now, Tyki," he says in a deadly calm tone. "Continue on with your pointless charade. I do hope this doesn't come back to haunt you, however. It would be a shame if something were to happen to that young lady, now, wouldn't it?"

* * *

Sheril's words continue to ring in his head as Tyki makes his way towards his room—Allen's room now, he supposes with a cruel chuckle. It's become more hers than his by this point—or perhaps it is more appropriate to refer to it as _their_ room.

He rather likes the sound of that— _their room_ —despite the cryptic warning that Sheril has just given him. There's no way that his brother would go so far as to kill the white-haired girl without a go-ahead from the Earl—is there? No, certainly Sheril would not be so thick-headed as to attempt _that_. Even he must see how insane that would be.

Tyki senses nothing amiss when he enters the room apart from the disconcerting silence that greets him, and the ensuing reminder of what she had told him not long ago.

 _Perhaps…you took it from me_.

Despite the room being in relative order, something strikes the Noah as odd the moment he sets the platter down on the table. The young woman is sitting cross-legged on the bed, fiddling idly with the fingers in her lap. Tyki raises an eyebrow in concern; she seems nervous, somehow, as though waiting for something horrible to happen. Is she still afraid of him? It would not be strange, he reasons, given all that he has done to her over the course of a few months, but she has rarely showed her distress as of late. She has been little more than an emotionless piece of plywood in his presence.

So what's wrong with her now?

"I brought you food, girl," he tells her, and she flinches at the sound of his voice. His skin crawls with trepidation at her meek behavior. She isn't even looking at him, though he knows that she knows he's there; she seems to be making an effort to avoid his eyes, as though making eye contact with him will be the death of her.

_What is going on?_

She doesn't meet his eyes as he draws closer to her, and he briefly considers the fact that doing so might be a bad idea. With her questionable state of mind, she may just as well have a nervous breakdown similar to the fit of rage she had before. Staying away from her, giving her the space she craves, is probably the best course of action for him to take.

But, as he has already proven time and time again, Tyki is terrible at taking his own advice.

Allen bites down hard on her lip as he looms over her. He stands above her, dubious on whether or not he should say anything to assuage her apparent fear. Her anxiety only seems to grow at his proximity, and he sighs dramatically. Try as he might, he cannot stem the odd flow of empathy he feels for her right now.

_Perhaps I should…?_

"I'm not going to hurt you, Allen," he tells her, tilting her chin up so that she is facing him. Her eyes find his, still empty but for an indeterminable emotion—but, Tyki can tell, not a positive one. This much he knows. "Now eat. I'll come back to get the dishes later."

He releases her chin and turns around, fully intent on leaving her alone with her thoughts—and then, to his utter shock, he is stopped in his tracks by a warm hand firmly gripping his forearm.

"Wait."

He turns back around slowly, confused beyond all rational thought as to why the young woman who despises him now wants to spend more time in his presence. He watches as her face contorts with conflicting emotions, flicking through masks of confusion and nervousness as she struggles to find the words to convey her thoughts. Finally, she settles on one.

"Stay."

He is floored by her request, and with good reason; it must show on his face as well, for Allen gapes at him as though struggling to explain herself in a justifiable way—not that he really needs her to.

"Why?" he asks her, turning around so that he is fully facing her.

She releases his arm, exhaling in apparent relief as she realizes that he isn't still trying to leave. "I…" she starts, gnawing on her lip to the point that Tyki worries that she will draw blood. "I don't know why I'm asking you this, but…it's been so hard lately. It's…lonely, just sitting in here all day. I hate asking you, of all people, but…please don't leave me alone right now." She reaches for his arm once again, and Tyki nearly goes slack-jawed as her fingers caress the gray pallor of his skin.

"Make me forget, Tyki…"

And, as he is unfortunately prone to doing, the Noah of Pleasure is all but incapable of refusing her request.

* * *

Allen feels nauseous as she touches Tyki's arm. She doesn't know if she can do this, doesn't know if she can properly fool the Noah into believing that she wants to be with him.

But she's going to try to make him believe her—for the sake of her freedom, and for everything that she holds close to her heart, she is going to give the most convincing performance possible.

Just this once, she is going to give herself to him willingly.

Tyki stares down at the young woman with a smoldering look, one that promises that he is more than willing to do exactly what she has asked of him. Perhaps, this time, he will not be so violent; that is all she can hope for.

Allen allows her eyes to slide closed, still not releasing her grip on the man's arm.

And she waits.

She doesn't have to do so for long—she supposes that he is more than eager to claim her once again, anyway. Soon, she senses the growing heat on her face—his mouth lingers too close to her own, and the white-haired girl's skin tingles at the sensation of pliant fingers hovering over her cheek. They are barely brushing the skin, and she still feels as though a hot flush has washed over her. She parts her lips as Tyki tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and suddenly, his voice is inside her head.

"If you really want this, Allen, open your eyes."

When she does as he says, she almost laughs at the befuddled look he is giving her—as though he fully expects her to revoke her previous offer. He has every reason to be doubtful; she has never initiated anything with him before.

"I do."

These simple words are more than enough for the Noah to hear, and he covers her mouth with his. She allows her lips to become soft and pliant, molded by the movement of his own; it is a pleasant feeling, and Allen hides her shame behind a mask of convincing willingness. She opens her mouth to him, gasping at the unexpected languidness with which he claims her. He is being soft with her, she realizes—as though he is wary of frightening her away.

However, she knows she can handle what he has to offer her.

His hands come up to caress her cheek, becoming firmer as the two are lost in the other's touch.

She needs to…

Hesitantly, her own hands rise to grip his upper arm and back, sliding over the thin material of his white dress shirt. As she does this, his lips detach from her mouth, sliding downward to latch onto her throat. He is going to mark her again, yet she doesn't object to it—right now, she cannot bring herself to mind. Shivers crawl down her spine, pooling as excited nerves in her belly as Tyki ravishes her neck with open-mouthed explorations. She tilts her head backwards, allowing him more room to mark her as she rubs up and down his back in a rhythmic motion.

"Tyki," she gasps as he bites her—not enough to hurt, but it certainly catches the young woman by surprise.

At the sound of his name, the Noah of Pleasure reacts in a way that further shocks the white-haired girl. He scoops her up in his arms, grabbing her hips with force, and falls with her onto the middle of the bed. Allen lands on her back, releasing the air in her lungs with a startled gasp. Tyki hovers over her, staring down as though uncertain of what to do next. They are both panting heavily, their mutual breaths having been swallowed by the other. Allen wonders whether or not she should do something to reciprocate, to prove to him that she is as involved in this as he is.

What does he want her to do?

She reaches her hands up, careful to ensure that her wrist is still concealed, and tangles her fingers in his curly hair. Without another word, she pulls him down for another breathless kiss—and he, of course, obliges her.

In the midst of their tongues intertwining, the young woman registers the feeling of the buttons on her shirt being loosened. Cool air hits her skin as her chest is revealed to Tyki's scrutiny. Silver eyes watch him as he watches her, staring down at her creamy skin with hungry eyes. She hadn't been wearing anything at all beneath the blouse—something that she can see the Noah approves of.

"Were you waiting for me?" he asks her cheekily, meeting her eyes as he trails a gray finger down the center of her chest.

Goosebumps rise across her skin in his finger's wake, and Allen nods breathlessly in answer. She curls her fingers within his loosened mane of dark hair.

At the coaxing of her hands, Tyki lowers his head to her chest, enthusiastically kissing the tops of her breasts and the pale skin of her bare shoulders. Allen's breathing becomes haggard as his lips descend onto her areola, and she compels him to suck harder with every unconscious tug of his hair.

It feels amazing, even better when it is her decision; she mewls against her wishes as the Noah envelopes her other breast in his hand, eagerly rolling her bud beneath his thumb.

"A bit eager, aren't you?" he jokes, but his playful tone is only half-hearted, as though he too is trying to regain control of his cognitive faculties and lungs.

"Please…" she mumbles. _Stop teasing me._ Her voice is strained by the lascivious feelings running through her veins. The white-haired girl releases his hair, instead setting her trembling digits on the top button of his dress shirt. With shaking hands, she starts to unbutton it.

Tyki makes it easy for her, though he does appear caught off guard by her willingness—she has never attempted to undress him before. He shrugs the shirt off of his shoulders, depositing it on the floor as he detaches his mouth from her distended nipples.

The white-haired girl rests her nervous hands on the back of his neck and looks up at the Noah of Pleasure; his golden eyes are practically glowing, lit with the fire of his arousal. The intensity of it causes Allen to release a ragged breath.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

"You look very beautiful right now," Tyki tells her, two fingers playing absentmindedly with a piece of her hair. "Stunning, really."

The compliment stuns her into silence; to Allen's grave shock, she even finds herself smiling coyly up at him. His hands slide down the length of her body, coming to rest on the waistband of her leggings. He dips his thumbs inside the fabric, his digits roaming over the skin of her hipbones. In an agonizingly slow fashion, the Noah peels the sweaty fabric down her legs…

The hair on her arms stands on end, and Allen is ashamed that she is even aroused by his teasing actions—she knows that she is ready for him, for his body to move with her own. She doesn't want to admit it, but the sensation of having him inside of her sounds genuinely appealing at the moment. It's just the hormones talking, she reasons—or perhaps it's because this will be her ticket out of here. Maybe even the mere fact that she is choosing this for herself is enough to lessen the emotional pain.

But in the end, it doesn't matter how he makes her feel physically—all he's done for these past few months is destroy her emotionally. This might be her only chance of escaping.

She will do whatever it takes.

Allen hears the _swish_ of the cloth as her pants join Tyki's on the floor, and then his hands return to her torso to continue their ministrations. He grips the edges of her blouse gently, attempting to slide it off of her shoulders—

"No," she says suddenly, grabbing his wrists. "Leave it on."

The Noah arches an eyebrow at her. "No?"

She shyly looks away, her cheeks painted rouge. "Leave it on, please."

He seems confused by her request, but shrugs as though he cannot be bothered to question her. "If you insist. I still get to touch you, though…"

And then he proceeds to fulfill that promise.

He reaches behind her, tracing her spine beneath her shirt and setting Allen squirming against him. He claims her mouth again, focusing wholly on the sensual touches he is lavishing on her body. The golden-eyed man drags one of his smooth palms over her belly, while the other beckons her hand to rest on the middle of his back. Tyki's skin is so smooth—not anything like she would have expected, if she had ever taken the time to run her hands across it.

Through the low-pitched humming noises he is making, and the breathy gasps issuing from her own throat, Allen hears the distant _snap_ of a button. Before she realizes it, one of Tyki's hands is resting at the crotch of her underwear, cupping her more gently than he ever had before.

"Are you ready?" he pants against her lips, shocking the young woman enough that she opens her eyes. She nods breathlessly at him, blushing fiercely when she takes into account the fact that he is already naked. So he wants this to be symbolic of something, then; he isn't looking for a fleeting glimpse of pleasure. What does he want from her?

Allen breathes heavily through her mouth as Tyki slides the remaining garment off of her, and he silences her with a surprisingly tender kiss.

"There will be nothing but pleasure this time, girl," he promises her in a whisper, his eyes boring fiercely into hers. "You have my word."

She nods dumbly, clutching both his back and curly tresses as he pulls her legs up and wraps them around his slender waist. At his insistence, she crosses her ankles, fidgeting beneath him so as to make herself more comfortable at this new angle.

At the realization of what is about to happen, panic momentarily seizes her; the white-haired girl swallows it, trying to instead pay attention to the physical sensations that are surrounding her. She hides her face in Tyki's neck, biting her lip as he enters her.

Against her best efforts, Allen releases a ragged gasp as he fills her, her legs reflexively tightening around him at the blissful feeling that overtakes her. He too takes a labored breath, as though trying to rein himself in. Is it for her sake that he does?

The white-haired girl sighs again when he pulls out, allowing her head to fall back against the mattress. Pleasure spikes through her, inciting her toes to curl when he refills her. Tyki's hands, which are positioned on either side of her head, desperately clench the sheets between them. His forehead drops onto hers, causing their mutually haze-filled orbs to meet.

 _He's distant_ , Allen thinks of the foggy film in his golden irises—but still more alive than she has ever seen him. His orbs are practically glowing—as are hers, she supposes. It amazes her—how good he feels inside of her, as though she is finally finding relief. It had never been like this before.

Never.

Tyki keeps up his abnormally slow pace, inciting the young woman to release breathy little moans every time he reenters her. He easily manages to work the both of them into a frenzy, and Allen finds that she is lifting her own hips in time to meet his. He calls her to him, stirring her previously dormant body into action in order to please itself, to finish what _she_ had started.

Without a doubt, Allen has never felt such intense sensations before—and neither, apparently, has Tyki. The Noah's hands flex wildly, coming to rest on her neck and hip as he eagerly attaches his lips to her throat. His hips begin to work faster, easily working their bodies to the boiling point.

Allen cries out between intervals as Tyki slides against her inner walls, the heat pooling in her stomach to an unbearable level as she buries her face in his throat once more. It must be sinful, she thinks, for something so heinous to feel so _euphoric_ when it's done at the behest of her worst enemy. There must be a special place for her in Hell.

Along with him.

Finally, the crescendo, the epitome of bliss crashes over her, causing her whole body to tense around the Noah above her. He growls as she tugs his hair too hard, but he soon does the same, his body going rigid, then slack, against hers. At the last moment, he rolls to the side, bringing her with him so that she is nestled against his naked torso.

They are both panting, having been physically exerted by their tryst.

Yet Allen still knows what she has to do.

"I was right, wasn't I?" Tyki asks her amusedly, brushing a lock of hair from her sweat-soaked brow. "You seemed to enjoy it well enough."

Allen hides her face in his chest, feeling the beat of his heart as though it were no different from her own. He feels human; he smells human; disregarding the gray hue of his skin, he is in all appearances human.

But it is far too late for this to change anything.

"Yes," she agrees, her fist clenching beneath the sleeve of her shirt.

 _Innocence, activate_.


	18. A Plan of Escape

_Innocence, activate._

For the first time in what seems like forever, Allen's arm does as she commands it to. It's a bit sluggish, due to underuse, but she feels the surge of power as though it had been only yesterday when she had lost the ability to activate it. The sensation is almost painful, but she grits her teeth and bears the momentary discomfort.

She has to.

A bright light momentarily fills the room—but no, it's not a light at all, but rather that absolute whiteness of her Innocence; her Crown Clown, finally able to return to her after so many months spent without its guiding light and familiar presence. Relief flows through the young woman as she feels her arm begin to shift forms, taking on its usual clawed appearance.

She clenches her teeth as strength seems to surge back into her body and alights her frazzled nerves, which had gone almost entirely numb as a result of her and Tyki's most recent activities. With all the stamina she can muster in spite of her jellified legs, the white-haired girl rolls over, putting distance between herself and the Noah of Pleasure. And then, Allen meets the Noah's surprised gaze with something she had been fearful she would never be able to recover.

Determination.

Determination that only deepens as she sees Tyki's befuddled golden eyes.

Time seems to slow considerably as the Noah of Pleasure realizes exactly what has happened, what _is_ happening—his face morphs from a relaxed, pleasured mien, becoming alert and shocked by the sudden turn of events.

She doesn't blame him; this is, after all, why she had allowed him to use her body one more time. She had known that in this moment, in the afterglow of their indiscretion, that he would be the most vulnerable. And she is going to take advantage of that. He has noticed, true, but it's a bit too late, the white-haired girl thinks.

" _Clown Belt!"_ she exclaims.

Instantly, tendrils of pure white shoot out from the cloak that has settled over her bare shoulders, reaching out to wrap themselves around the gray-skinned man.

Allen does not intend to put so much brute force behind the blows, as per Road's request to not severely injure Tyki, but she _is_ a bit rusty with her fighting skills; the strikes from her Innocence cause the Noah to go careening into the wall behind him, slamming into and forming large, unsightly cracks in the plaster. Crown Clown does not relent in its vicious hold on the curly-haired man, however. It wraps itself around Tyki's limbs, tightening harshly on his arms and torso until he releases a strained noise.

Allen pushes herself to her feet, paying no mind to the fact that her nude body is on display apart from her unbuttoned shirt and the cloak of Innocence that is draped across her shoulders. Her nudity is of no great importance at the moment; even better, it will at the very least be a distraction to the Noah.

"You can't phase through Innocence," she rasps out, her voice hoarse from her previous vocalizations. "I've got you."

Tyki struggles, but ceases momentarily as the young woman addresses him.

"How?" he questions her, his voice curious. "How did you manage to activate your Innocence?"

The white-haired girl holds up her left arm, revealing her bare wrist. "I am more capable than you think I am," she tells him, unwilling to sell out the only member of his family who had bothered to be of any help to her—for reasons still unknown to Allen. She positions her arm in front of her, taking an offensive posture.

Tyki's maniacal grin sends shudders down her spine, unhinging her despite his disadvantageous position.

"Excellent," he says. "It's nice to know that you haven't lost your way after all, girl. But I must ask…"

Allen's eyes narrow as spikes of pink matter illuminate the room, issuing from the Noah's hand.

"Let's have some fun, shall we?"

Allen cries out as the dark matter Tyki is holding slices through a strand of her Innocence, freeing the Noah's right hand. She extends another one at him, and another, and both of them he slices through before he manages to finally sever the one binding his left hand. With both hands free, he charges at her.

The white-haired girl narrowly avoids being struck by him, dodging his rapid advance and slipping past him with unprecedented agility. He hadn't expected her to be able to move so fast, she realizes; he has underestimated her already.

That, she knows from experience, is a mistake on his part.

Just as he turns to face her, she calls forth her Innocence once more.

"Clown Belt!"

As effective as ever, the tendrils of Innocence wrap around his feet this time, pulling on his ankles and effectively unbalancing the Noah of Pleasure. With grace that Allen is nearly jealous of, he goes down but still manages to work his fall to his advantage. He rolls onto his back and flips back up just in time to block her heavy claws with a bright shard of dark matter. He plants his feet in the floor, pushing into her with all of his strength and weight; their eyes meet, and he shoots her a lopsided grin before pushing off and sliding away from her. His dark matter morphs into a sharp, blade-like entity, and he once again severs the Innocence that has attached itself to his ankles.

Allen growls, and he smiles cheekily at her with vindictive pleasure before he sinks into the wall behind him. The young woman suddenly tenses, her nerves a bundle of excited energy as her eyes dart around in search of where the Noah is hiding. Never has Tyki's ability been so troublesome as it is right now, when her freedom and future hinges on this one moment. If he catches her by surprise, it's all over.

She cannot allow that to happen.

With a deep breath, Allen closes her eyes, compelling herself to hear and feel out his location rather than rely on useless sight. Where is he? What direction will he come from? From behind her? Below her?

"I would prefer not to have to fight naked," he informs her, his disembodied voice nearly throwing off Allen's concentration, "but if it's with you, girl, I believe I can make an exception."

Suddenly, his voice takes on a distinctly irate connotation, filled to the brim with malice and wrath.

"Do you really believe you can escape by catching me off guard? Even for you, Allen, this is a new level of optimism. I will not allow you to leave here—not _ever_."

His voice makes her skin crawl, but she only squeezes her eyes shut tighter. He's only trying to distract her, to unhinge her; if she just focuses on her surroundings, she will be able to find him…

She's almost there. He's at the very edge of her awareness…

"Why would you want to go back to the Order anyway, girl?" Tyki questions her, his tone boastful and snarky. "I made that place into quite a mess the last time I was there…"

_Ignore him. I can almost feel his presence…_

"Who was it that I killed again? That Finder…"

Almost…She can feel the edge in his voice as he readies himself to charge her…

"Ah, yes! Those three exorcists. That samurai was in especially bad shape, remember? He wasn't much of a fight…"

Almost…

"Just a worthless, filthy _human_."

_He's behind me!_

Allen senses Tyki the instant he emerges from the wall behind her—but this span of time is more than enough.

" _Clown Belt!"_

Just before he reaches her, the Noah is stopped in his tracks. Ribbons of pure white wrap themselves around his biceps, his wrists, his torso—and, of course, his throat. Allen cries out with the strain as she throws Tyki back with all of her strength, forcing him up against the wall once more. But of course, this time, he cannot phase through it, as the Innocence is binding him.

With sweat beading across her brow, the young woman calls more tendrils of Innocence to her aid, effectively wrapping Tyki in what looks to be a series of bandages all over his body.

She's got him; he will not escape from her now.

The ribbon that is wound around his neck tightens, causing the Noah of Pleasure to release a harsh choking sound from his abused throat. Even so, the white-haired girl does not relinquish her hold on him. She stands before Tyki, her chest heaving with physical exertion, and stares down at him with rare triumph in her eyes.

"I win," she tells him a near-whisper, her lungs almost worked to capacity. She tries to shake it off; she will need the rest of her strength for escaping the Ark once and for all.

But first, she has to finish what she's started.

Ever so slightly, she tightens the hold of her Crown Clown around Tyki's throat just enough to partially cut off his airways. She had promised Road, after all, and she doesn't want to incite the young girl's wrath when she is so close to escaping.

She'll worry about the details later.

Tyki's eyes widen when he realizes what she is doing, and he strains harder against his binds—all to no avail. His muscles start to weaken as the air leaves his lungs, and oxygen ceases to flow to the rest of his body.

As he realizes the futility of his efforts, he meets Allen's silver orbs with unchecked anger—and a degree of curiosity as well.

"So you're going to kill me now?" he asks her, his voice surprisingly low. He is still menacing, but the lack of oxygen has severely weakened the impact of his voice.

"No," she tells him firmly, and his golden orbs light up with confusion. "I won't—though God knows you deserve it."

He grins at her through his strained features, his eyelids beginning to droop with fatigue. And then, to the young woman's shock, she finds in the Noah's eyes a veritable mixture of emotions. They seem to be flowing out of his mind's eye and into her own, filling her with a familiar conflicting sensation. It's almost enough to make her release her hold on his throat, but she manages to reassert her grip at the last moment. What she sees…cannot be properly described.

Hideous anger permeates his features, sadistic euphoria that catches her off guard only due to the other emotion in his eyes that matches it in intensity.

Sadness.

Tyki Mikk actually appears to be _saddened_ by what she is doing—and this, for illogical reasons, causes a wave of guilt to wash over her.

He deserves this, and more—he deserves to rot for what he's done to her and her friends, to all of the other innocent people who had suffered and who _will_ suffer by his hands. What she is doing should be considered the least of her worries—so why does she feel as though she is doing something wrong?

_What is this feeling?_

Allen only releases her Clown Belt when Tyki loses consciousness, his eyelids dropping closed with finality that allows the white-haired girl to breathe a sigh of relief. She quickly dresses herself, only now taking notice of the cold temperature of the room. She has to move fast—she has no idea when the other Noah will return, and she doesn't fancy a confrontation with the Earl. Not even Road will be able to help her then.

As the young woman slips on her shoes—the overtly feminine pair of slip-ons that are sitting at the foot of the bed—she makes for the door, prepared to blow a hole through it if need be.

However, just as she rears back to bust it down, Allen casts one glance over her shoulder.

Tyki is lying slouched against the wall, his chest rising and falling evenly in his unconscious state. He looks almost peaceful, the glare on his face now gone along with the abundant sadness the young woman had seen in his golden orbs. She should not be hesitating, but she does. The next time she will see Tyki again, it will be in battle; one of them will have to die then. There will be no deals, no mercy being taken on either side. This is how it has always been—so why is she hesitating now?

This is nonsense; she has to get back to the Order. She is lucky to have escaped from him with her life, but she still has business to take care of. She has no time to be worrying about the consequences of leaving the Noah of Pleasure. She is not his; he is not her responsibility.

He is an enemy.

Without another backwards glance, Allen runs out of the room, heading hurriedly towards the unknown.

* * *

_Allen-chan still hasn't left the Ark yet…what is she doing?_

Road taps her fingernails impatiently against the table, her restless exterior giving no indication that there is anything wrong with the young Noah. She is restless more often than not, anyway; it's an extremely characteristic part of her childish nature, one that grants her the ability and wherewithal to fool almost anybody she comes across into doing her bidding. A jittery, overly active adult is a cause for suspicion and social ostracism. A jittery, overly active child, on the other hand, is rarely seen as a cause for suspicion and is even less often scrutinized. Who would dare to suspect such an innocent young girl as being guilty of any wrongdoing?

Even so, the Millennium Earl is the one being who knows Road better than anyone else in her family…besides the Fourteenth and Ezra, of course. But they have been gone for a long time.

Suddenly, Road detects a surge of energy from somewhere within the Ark. Like a bolt of lightning, the electrifying presence dominates her senses for a brief moment—it couldn't have been more than a second, but it was there. And it causes the Noah within Road to smile broadly at its presence…

…For what she had just felt was both a surge of Innocence energy, and the unmistakable sensation of a budding Noah.

What is Allen _doing_? Road had told her to be subtle when getting away from Tyki, not to alert everything on the Ark to her escape attempt! Releasing so much raw energy at once is ridiculous. "Foolhardy" doesn't even begin to cover it. The young exorcist may have just jeopardized the entire plan. If Road had been able to detect the raw power emanating from the white-haired girl's body, she can be absolutely certain that the Earl has felt it too.

Sure enough, when Road pauses in her relentless finger drumming and looks over at the Earl, she sees him as bright-eyed and alert as ever. He is in his human form, and due to this Road can see very clearly the strange gleam in his eyes. He glances around the room, lifting his nose into the air as though sniffing out a clear, distinctive scent.

"Did you feel that, Road?" he says quietly, his eyes glued to the ceiling.

Road cocks her head playfully at him. "Feel what, Lord Millennium? Is something wrong?"

"Perhaps…or perhaps not," he relays, still not looking directly at the spiky-haired girl. "I sense that something is amiss on the Ark."

_He knows._

All of a sudden, he stands up, his body stiff and devoid of all playfulness. His rigid posture makes it all the more eerie when a full smile crawls onto his bearded face. "Someone is moving who shouldn't be able to," he deduces. He directs his gaze to Road, who is now staring up at him with eager admiration despite her inner monologue of disappointment. "It seems, Road, that our guest the Fourteenth is trying to make an escape."

Road smiles, but continues to drum her fingers frantically on the tabletop.

_You'd better hurry, Allen-chan._

* * *

Allen runs until her legs burn, down the long corridor that seems to have no end. She doesn't know which way to go; she has absolutely no idea what she should be doing. Road had said that it would come to her, that she would be able to figure out how to escape when the time came, and that she would be able to use the abilities of the Fourteenth in order to control the Ark's movements, but the young woman is unaware of how to harness such power in the first place. What is Neah's prerogative, anyway? The Noah of Transportation? Allen knows that this is no time to be making jokes, but in the absence of any knowledge on how to escape, it doesn't seem as though there is much else she can do.

The young woman bursts through the first door she comes across, one at the very end of the hallway, and almost cries out in pain when her eyes begin to burn. She snaps them shut reflexively at the feeling. Hesitantly, the girl cracks her eyelids open, and almost sighs in relief when she recognizes her surroundings.

It's the same place she had been to her first time on the Ark, the courtyard lined with pretty houses and well-kept shrubbery. And it had been the light which had burned her eyes; it has been so long since she's seen anything resembling sunshine that her orbs had immediately rejected it. At least that's a start; she's gotten out of Tyki's room. Now she needs to figure out how to get back to Earth.

 _Neah? Are you there? I need help!_ The white-haired girl despises having to ask him for assistance, but she doesn't know what else to do. She needs his abilities in order to get back home.

Sincerely hoping that she will not come to regret her actions, Allen peels back the layers of consciousness that she has placed between herself and the Noah. She severs all tentative interactions, opting instead for a space in her mind where the two of them are on equal footing.

_Neah…_

The young woman gasps when an electrical bolt seems to shoot through her, igniting her senses with the impression of being on fire. It's exhilarating, and at the same time terrifying.

Without her consent, her right hand flies up to slap herself on the forehead.

 **Allen?** The Fourteenth's familiar soothing voice sounds inside her head, accompanied by a surge of adrenaline.

Allen releases a ragged breath; is this what being a Noah feels like? This level of strength, of power? Neah has never been so close to her before, but it feels…almost _good._

 **What are you doing?** he questions her. **You escaped?** He almost sounds impressed, but Allen has no time to be acting smug.

 _I need your help. You have to get us out of here. Road told me that you can control the Ark's movements, so I need you to use your Noah abilities now. It's our only chance to get out of here_.

**Me? What do you mean, me?** _**You** _ **are the Fourteenth, Allen.** _**You** _ **use your abilities.**

Her jaw falls open. _But I don't know how_!

**Of course you do. It's inside of you. And you had better hurry, too.**

_Why does everybody keep telling me that? It's not as though I've ever trained for something like this. How am I supposed to do something that I don't understand?_

**But you** _**do** _ **understand, Allen. You know much more than you think you do. The memory of the Fourteenth is ingrained into you—but you have to want to use it.**

"Isn't it a bit careless to turn your back on me, Fourteenth?"

Allen barely has time to register the voice that is speaking to her before she dashes away from the large object that is swung at her head, twisting her body around in midair as she does. An oversized sword touches down on the place where she had been standing a moment prior, shattering the cobblestone and leaving numerous cracks in the pavement around it.

As she catches her breath, the Earl stares down at the white-haired girl with the same menacing grin that always chills Allen's bones whenever she sees him in his absurd attire; this time, however, something is different. She can see the zipper in front, though his true face is still obscured from her vision.

The white-haired girl also has a different feeling than usual, one that makes her skin crawl in discomfort. It's as though some great energy apart from his usual brand of insanity and imposing presence is radiating off of him. It's very familiar, but she cannot explain why; it must a Noah thing, something that she can only sense when she allows part of the Noah to override her other senses.

She does sense Neah inside of her more prominently than usual; perhaps that is why things feel…strange right now.

"Earl," Allen greets the large man, taking her stance before him with her arm at the ready.

"Allen Walker," he reciprocates gleefully. "Or should I say, the Fourteenth?"

The young woman tenses. "If that's what you wish to call me, then feel free to do so. But I will never be a Noah. I will _never_ join your sick family."

"Oh? Leaving so soon, then?" he asks her sadly, cocking his head in a creepy gesture. "Do you not intend to even fight me? You seemed keen on doing so several times before, when you were not nearly as strong as you are now…it would be a grand opportunity, don't you think? You _are_ an exorcist after all, right, _Fourteenth_?"

_What is he getting at?_

From behind the Earl, Allen catches a glimpse of Road, who merely lingers in the background as though uncertain of what to do. The white-haired girl knows what it is the young Noah must do, however: nothing. Road cannot help her. If she does, the Earl will automatically suspect that the spiky-haired Noah is involved in her escape. The most that Road can do is stand there and watch. Allen has to help herself now. This is fine; she has spent the enormity of her life watching out for herself.

Still, this doesn't stop the youngest Noah from tilting her head encouragingly towards Allen—almost as though she is egging her on, urging her to continue her enormously one-sided battle.

Or, perhaps, urging her to get the hell out of here. She wants to, more than anything else in the world; she has no intention of giving up her brief taste of freedom now—not when returning to her home is a possibility just within her reach.

"If you are trying to bait me into fighting you, Earl," she says, "it won't work. I have no intention of allowing you to imprison me once again. I _will_ leave this place—and I will come back to destroy you."

The white-haired girl expects him to laugh at her as he always does, but to her surprise, he doesn't. He stays perfectly silent for a few seconds, taking the time to pull his sword out of the ground.

"You will destroy me?" he echoes her, his face a literal mask of indifference and ambiguity. "Why does this sound so familiar? Ah, I know! It's because those are the same words the Fourteenth said to me…right before I killed him."

Allen's blood freezes over as the Earl releases a peal of laughter, the sound far more sinister than anything else she's heard from him before. It's as if her heart speeds up just at the sound alone; it promises something terrible, foreshadowing her ultimate demise unless she is able to get away from him. She has to _leave_ —right now, or else she just may never see the light of day again.

"So, Allen-chan," the Earl continues, raising his sword as Allen takes a tentative step backwards, "have you finally accepted the Fourteenth within you?"

**Don't answer him. He's only trying to provoke you.**

"Have you welcomed him into your mind with open arms?"

 _ **Run**_ **, Allen—you don't have time to listen to his nonsense**.

" _Have you finally been accepted, Neah_?"

With a strangled cry, the Earl lunges for her.

Allen nearly becomes flattened as the Earl brings the broad side of the sword down on her, but she dives out of the way just in time. She shoots back to her feet, swinging her body around at precisely the right moment to have her clawed hand connect with the Earl's blade. He giggles insanely as their faces loom a mere inch from each other's, and throws his entire weight forward so that Allen is forced a few feet backwards. She digs her heels into the ground, leaving elongated scars in the pavement where she slides across its surface.

" _Neah_!" The Earl calls the Fourteenth's given name crazily as he charges for Allen once more. His blade misses her head by a hair's width when she jumps over the weapon, kicking off of it to land safely behind the large man.

The white-haired girl is openly panting now, due both to physical exertion and the raw nerves that are tingling in her stomach.

This isn't good. If she makes one wrong move… She has to get away from the Earl, or else she might end up worse than captive. In the Earl's crazed state of mind, she just might end up being beheaded. Preserving her life and bodily health seems to have been disregarded for the moment by the Maker of Akuma.

"Why are you running, Allen-chan?" the Earl calls to her as the young woman darts across a patch of grass, then cuts through several rows of buildings. "Why don't you turn around and _fight_?"

 **What are you doing, Allen?** Neah berates her, his voice calm but his feelings reeking of tension and even a bit of frustrated anger. **You cannot outrun the Earl forever!**

"I know that!" she cries out loud, veering to the left as a sphere of light blows past her head, causing the building before her to crumble into nothing but rubble. "Just let me think!"

**There is no more time to think, Allen. Now is the time to act. If you don't use your Noah abilities, we are going to die here. The Earl is not in his right frame of mind. He may very well kill us in his frustration by mistake.**

"Dammit!" Allen hisses as she stumbles over a rock, dodging right as the Earl's sword finds her again. He's much faster than she had imagined; she has to bend and contort her body just to avoid being cut in half. The young woman doesn't manage to dodge any of the large man's swings without suffering multiple minor lacerations to her limbs and torso. With every swing, Allen backs away, unable to focus on her surroundings while having a large blade swung at her head.

She can't fight back; she isn't ready yet. She's too weak, too hungry, too worn out from months of captivity and sexual torment. Anyone else in her position would have already passed out from exhaustion. Only one thing is keeping her awake at this point.

The possibility of seeing her friends again is what keeps her on her feet.

Unfortunately, her love for her friends does not prevent her from backing herself into the wall of another building. Before she can stop herself, Allen is forced up against the wall with the Earl's blade placed right at her neck. Immediately, she freezes, a sinking feeling taking root deep within her stomach.

_No!_

"So, Allen-chan," the Earl says teasingly, "what are you going to do now? You clearly haven't harnessed the Fourteenth's abilities…so how were you planning on escaping?"

The blade is pushed deeper against her skin, almost deep enough to draw blood. Is this it?

Is she going to die here?

" _Allen!"_ an enraged voice booms from behind the struggling pair.

Allen glances past the Earl's bulbous mask at the sound of the masculine tone calling her name. When she sees who it is, she blanches, a sinking feeling causing her stomach to drop to her knees.

_Oh, no…_

Tyki stands a few feet away from the Earl and Allen, watching with conflicted golden eyes as his master holds his large blade to the white-haired girl's throat. Indeed, he seems more than shocked, and messy as well; his hair is still in disarray, and his clothes appear to have been little more than thrown on in his haste. She _had_ left him naked in his room, after all.

Still, Allen has never seen the Noah look so unkempt, excluding the times she had seen him in his human form. Why this sends a pang through her chest, the young woman cannot determine.

As she watches, Tyki's brows furrow, his face shifting from a mien of confusion to anger and disbelief upon witnessing the scene before him.

"What are you doing, Earl?" he says, his usually calm tone underlain by anxiety. "I thought you said that you wanted her alive. Have you changed your mind?"

The rotund man hesitates at the Noah's words, but he doesn't spare Tyki a glance.

At that moment, Road arrives on the scene, running up behind Tyki and stopping just short of plowing into him.

"I do want her alive," the Earl says. "I want the Fourteenth to join us again…but unfortunately, she seems far too keen on escaping instead."

"The Fourteenth?" Tyki echoes, the man's confusion written plainly across his elegant features. "What are you talking about, Earl?"

"I believe that I've been more than patient enough," the large man declares, "while waiting for you to finally awaken the rest of your memories, Tyki-pon. It is time to stop fighting your Noah side and remember who this woman is."

Tyki's frown grows larger as the Earl turns to face him, his face alight with eclectic emotion. Yet he doesn't lower his blade from Allen's throat, even going so far as to brush her cheek with the cool metal.

"You've noticed, haven't you?" he asks the Noah of Pleasure. "Joyd's anxiety, and the instinctive pain that comes from her presence? I was hoping that you would discover this for yourself after prolonged exposure to her, but it seems now I have no choice."

"Stop this, Earl!" Allen exclaims, wincing at the blood that is drawn from her throat as the Earl digs his blade deeper into her skin.

At the sight of the young woman's blood, Tyki takes a step forward. For a moment it looks as though he actually has the intention of helping her, but then he hesitates. Allen doesn't blame him; this is probably a surefire way to be declared a traitor by the Earl, and in any case, this onslaught of information is most likely too much to take in all at once.

Their eyes meet across the void, and something is sparked in the Noah's eyes; a film covers his golden orbs for a moment, but it soon winks out of existence, and Tyki is left with an even more conflicted expression than before.

"You see it, don't you?" the Earl coos. "She resembles someone, doesn't she? What's more, she is the host of the Noah who nearly ruined us thirty-five years ago."

"She looks like…" Tyki trails off, either unwilling or unable to finish his sentence.

The Earl does it for him. "She looks like Ezra! The Fifteenth Noah who destroyed you. You must recall her, Tyki-pon. This is the descendant of the woman who broke your Noah's heart."

Tyki shakes his head slowly, his eyes boring into Allen's as she gapes wordlessly at him.

"Tyki…" she says softly, her voice sad.

He stares back at her, the sound of her voice causing his eyes to glow with recognition _._

_This is getting too dangerous. I have to get out of here!_

**Command the Ark, Allen. Tell it to do as you say. It will listen to you if you speak loud enough.**

It's worth a try, at least.

_Get me out of here, Ark! Let me leave this place!_

_Take me home!_

To Allen's shock, an intense sensation washes over her; a bright light grows behind her, obscuring the edges of her silhouette as it encompasses her entire body. The Earl releases a startled cry, dumbfounded as the young woman before him becomes enshrouded by white.

The fat man bellows with laughter, dropping his sword from her throat.

"You've done it, Allen Walker!" he exclaims, his countenance suddenly jovial. "You've finally done it! You've succeeded in awakening the Fourteenth's abilities! Is that you, Neah?" he adds, scrutinizing the white-haired girl's features for any trace of the old Fourteenth. "You can hear me, can't you? Well, I'll be seeing you again soon!"

A flicker of movement catches Allen's eye as the Earl's voice begins to fade away. Her mouth falls open in surprise as she sees Tyki heading towards her, his angry eyes fixated on her face.

What should she say? It's not as though she owes him anything—not after the way he's treated her.

But even so, against her will, a single tear escapes her eye, leaving a darkened scar on the asphalt where it lands.

"I'll see you again," she promises, her voice and eyes hardened—and in her befuddled state of mind, she cannot say for certain whether that is a good thing or bad.

In any case, it's fitting, she thinks, that the last image she sees before the Ark fades away from existence is the flashing gold of Tyki's eyes.

 _Take me home, Ark_.


	19. A Ray of Hope

"Kanda Yuu?"

The samurai doesn't look up at the sound of his name. He could if he wanted to; it isn't as though doing so would be a chore for him, but he doesn't want to dignify the other man with so much as a passing glance.

He doesn't bow down to bootlickers.

The man persists anyway. "Kanda Yuu, Chief Komui is asking to see you in his office. I believe he is assigning you a mission."

 _Dammit_. With a tired sigh, Kanda stands up from his seat at the dining table and casts a loathing glance at his unfinished soba. Suddenly, he doesn't feel so hungry anymore.

The samurai makes to leave, but almost gives in to the urge to bash the man's head in when he speaks next.

"You should show us some respect," the man says in a low voice. "We are all humble servants of the Black Order, just as you are. You should also know that I, and all of the other guards who have been stationed here, report directly to Inspector Leverrier."

The tray in Kanda's hands bends ever so slightly, but he walks away without so much as a word. His thoughts, however, are a different matter.

_Pathetic dogs, all of them, licking at Leverrier's heels…_

He says nothing to Jerry when he drops off his tray, but the eccentric chef still glances at him worriedly. He must be looking more murderous than usual, not that anyone can blame him.

Walking through the newly renovated doors of the cafeteria, Kanda sees another pair of guards from Central, both of them standing as stiff and expressionless as cardboard. He scoffs as he passes them. The swordsman sees even more of them as he heads towards Komui's office, all of whom are patrolling the halls with similar excuses of protection. Protection, his ass—the only reason they're here is because Leverrier is obsessed with finding Allen. He has been ever since he first got here, and the staunch refusal of Cross to discuss the topic has most likely driven him crazier than he already is—hence the newly-enlisted army of constipated and arrogant guards. And Kanda would sooner ditch Mugen than forget about the interrogations—the men from Central who are questioning everyone who knows Allen, trying without success to find out everything about her.

Kanda doesn't see how her personal life is even relevant. She was kidnapped by the Noah—shouldn't that be enough information in order to put together a rescue party? (Once Komui figures out how to get to her, of course.)

In the meantime, all the guards do is stand around and watch, listening in on people's conversations and most likely reporting everything they hear back to Leverrier himself. As a result, Kanda hasn't talked to Cross since Central had first dug their claws into the situation. Nowadays, the walls have ears, and he is _this close_ to losing his patience and slashing the next guard he comes across in half.

Such a disaster is narrowly avoided when the Japanese man finally arrives at Komui's office; however, he does bang his fist on the door with more force than is necessary. Komui answers in record time, popping his head out and glancing back and forth before promptly pulling Kanda into the room with him. Caught off guard, the samurai almost stumbles over his own feet. He turns around to yell at Komui for his idiocy, only to gape wordlessly when he sees the Chinese man locking the door with fervor.

 _When did he get the time to install all those locks?_ There must be at least ten of them, all apparently homemade, some with rattling chains, others with intricate combinations, and still others with a comical amount of keyholes.

"Komui, what the hell are you doing?" Kanda chokes out.

"I'm so glad you asked, Kanda!" the man beams, straightening his beret as he turns to face the other man. "You can't be too careful these days. They won't even let me send my scientists to fetch you anymore. Leverrier doesn't trust us much, it seems. Well, _two_ can play at that game!" The scientist cackles evilly, and Kanda wonders if Komui has already lost what little remains of his sanity.

In a drastic shift of temperament, the purple-haired man's expression becomes sober, and he dashes over to his desk with a nervous shuffle. He sits heavily in his chair, knocking several large piles of paper to the floor in the process, and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Now then, Kanda," he says, "you were already informed that I am assigning you a mission, correct?"

The samurai nods, not trusting the combination of Komui's bizarre behavior and the seemingly innocent subject matter.

"Good. Because I am! It's nothing major; there are no reported cases of possible Innocence, but I _was_ informed that there has been increased Akuma activity within a small town in Poland. To keep a short story—well, short—I would like you to go there and take care of the problem. Local civilians are being quite terrorized."

Kanda is skeptical about this, and for good reason. "And you needed to lock the door to tell me this _why_?"

Komui makes a shushing gesture with his fingers and slinks over to the long-haired man's side. He leans in closely enough to be discreet, but keeps enough distance between them to ensure that Kanda will not attempt to throttle him for the invasion of his personal space.

"Because I knew that you would say that, Kanda-kun," he tells the samurai, who blanches with anger at such an appallingly _stupid_ thing to call him, "and I don't want anyone to burst in here during our conversation."

Kanda raises an eyebrow.

"While the Akuma activity is a problem that could be solved by any exorcist on duty, I believe it will be good for you to spend some time outside of Headquarters and away from Leverrier. With all of the security restrictions and the higher-ups from Central questioning us about Allen's whereabouts and personal life, it would do you—and all of us, really—some good to get out for a while. Especially you, since…"

"Since what?"

"Since…I saw you that night, Kanda."

"What night?" the Japanese man barks angrily, searching through his memories for anything incriminating that he may have done. He finds nothing but one instance, and he tries to keep the surprise off his face.

"The night you went to see General Cross. I saw you go down the hallway. There was no question where you went." Komui met Kanda's gaze with a serious one, an expression the samurai hardly ever sees him wear. "I don't know what he told you, if anything, but I will not put Allen's safety or freedom at risk by letting there be a chance of Leverrier finding out what it was. Don't even tell me. With the sort of in-depth questioning that Central is doing…I am not certain I want to know."

Kanda narrows his eyes.

"Think of this as a vacation of sorts, Kanda."

The Japanese man scoffs. "What about Cross? Isn't he the main target of Leverrier's interrogation?"

"Yes, but Cross is…Cross. He can handle himself much better than the rest of us can. If he didn't want to be here, he wouldn't be. And don't forget that you _do_ have a temper, Kanda. It isn't good for you to be in this environment. Some fresh air may do you good. Besides, with all the talk about Allen…I figured that it would only bring up bad memories."

Kanda goes stock-still at the Chinese man's words. _Did he just insinuate that…?_

"You're an idiot," he tells Komui, who merely grins cheekily at the stiff look on the samurai's face, "but I accept the mission. I'll head out as soon as I pack my things."

He slams the door on his way out, somehow feeling more irritable than he had when he first went in. Something about what Komui had said regarding Allen rubs him the wrong way.

But then, so does everything else about the Moyashi.

* * *

When the eerie sensation of being squeezed through a tube fades, it takes Allen a moment to deduce her surroundings. She feels disoriented and faintly sick from her sudden transportation, still not completely used to this method of travel despite having experienced it her first time using the Ark.

To her misfortune, when she finally succeeds in shaking off the dizziness and surveys the area around her, the young woman finds that she is just as confused as before. For one thing, her environment is still very much white; the walls are bright and piercing enough to sting her eyes, as is the floor and all the furniture—furniture that is sparse and consists only of a couch, a bench, and, to her surprise, a piano.

_A piano? What is this? Where…where am I? Am I still in the Ark? This place can't be real…it's too…gaudy._

Allen ventures farther into the bizarre room, still uncertain if she should be frightened or curious (perhaps a bit of both), and nearly releases a scream when something else moves with her.

She claps her hands over her mouth before she can make a sound, sighing in relief when she realizes that it had only been her reflection. Her nerves must be getting to her… One of the walls, rather than being solid white as it had appeared initially, has the properties of a mirror.

But upon further inspection, Allen almost screams again.

It's not a mirror. Just as it had been in one of her dreams—the one at the shallow pond, where she had been surrounded by rubble—her reflection is merely a bulbous silhouette with holes for eyes and a maniacal grin.

The Noah.

"Calm down, Allen," the silhouette says in a soft voice, the tone sounding foreign when issued from its mouth. "Don't be put off by this primitive appearance."

The white-haired girl takes a step forward, watching with morbid interest as the reflection mimics her movement.

It takes her a moment, but she is able to find her voice again. "…Neah?"

"Congratulations," her reflection says. "You were able to use one of your Noah abilities. How are you feeling now?"

His question catches her off guard, and Allen averts her eyes from what she perceives as a rhetorical question. How does he _think_ she's feeling? She suddenly feels ashamed, and she has a hunch that Neah can sense it.

"I don't know…I'm happy that I was able to escape, but I also can't help but feel…dirty, somehow, for allowing myself to become so exhilarated by it. Allowing part of the Noah to overtake me was…I can't properly describe the sensation."

"It makes you feel powerful, doesn't it? Invincible."

Allen nods sheepishly. "Is that…normal?"

"…Of course. You are an exorcist, after all. It's in your nature to resist the Noah that pulls you."

The young woman nods again, glancing curiously at her surroundings. "So…where am I? What is this place?"

"Simple. Similar to what Road told you of Ezra's room, this is the secret room of the Fourteenth. However, it is wildly different from Ezra's in that only the Fourteenth can get in, whereas in Ezra's cell, only she can get out unaided once trapped. One comes in, one comes out. They are polar opposites."

"So Road was telling the truth…"

"Yes. No one else can escape the Fifteenth's cell unless she so chooses…which leads me to believe that she has not yet reincarnated, as the Earl told you. He is playing you, Allen. If she had, you would not have been able to leave the room without her consent, and neither would Tyki, or Jasdero, or Devitto…"

She says nothing.

"But back to this room—it is from here that you are able to subject the movement of the Ark to your will. There is another name I go by—the Musician. Playing my piano allowed me to exercise control over the Ark's movements. It is the same for you as well."

"The piano? But I don't know how. I don't think I can—"

"That is precisely what you said a few moments ago. Did you not manage to escape in spite of your declared inability?"

Allen bites her lip, knowing that Neah is right. "But…"

"Besides, all you have to do is find one key—one key that will lead you where you need to go. A complex composition is only necessary for a complex action, such as the creation of a new Ark via download."

As she listens, the white-haired girl's feet move on their own, steering her towards the piano. She stops before the ivory keys, for a moment simply standing in awe of the wondrous craftsmanship. She has never stopped to appreciate a musical instrument before, but now she regrets having been so blind to the humble beauty of such objects. The piano almost feels alive to her, so crisp and artful as it is. Whoever made such a singularly appealing piece of equipment must not be of this world; she has never seen anything like it, having never been privy to the more leisurely pastimes of the musical elite. It calls to her, seeming to envelope her attention until the objects in her peripheral vision come across as mundane and irrelevant.

Will she taint it by touching it? Neah doesn't think so, but Allen still wonders. Hesitantly, the young woman reaches out with one hand, her pointer finger being drawn to a particular key as though tied to it with an invisible string.

Is this it? Is this the one she's looking for? Where will it take her? Perhaps she should already have a place in mind…

One thought stays in the girl's head as she presses the key, creating a pleasant note that vibrates throughout her senses.

_Ark, take me back…_

This time when the Ark reacts to her prompting, Allen is (thankfully) not whisked away by an unknown force. Instead, a white light radiates from the wall, reforming and taking on a rectangular shape. She watches in amazement as the light fades, and the young woman recognizes the object as being a door.

_How odd…is this supposed to take me back to the Order? It's a strange way of getting around, but it is convenient. I wonder if I could use this ability instead of taking the train everywhere._

"Sorry, Allen. You have to play the piano in order to control the Ark's movements. You can't use it unless you are on board," Neah informs her.

_Stop reading my thoughts!_

Allen approaches the door cautiously, but with a great deal of excitement pumping through her veins. She may be able to finally get home. It's been so long since she's seen a friendly face…

With her courage stacked behind her, the white-haired girl walks through the door.

* * *

Bitter cold bites her cheeks and nose as soon as she steps outside, and Allen has to steel her nerves in order to keep herself from running back inside to the relative comfort of the Ark. She glances behind herself at the floating anomaly, urging it silently to go away.

 **It will disappear soon, and revert back to its previous location. This will ensure that the Earl will not know your destination** , Neah says.

She nods, and turns around to survey her surroundings. The first thing she realizes is that she has never seen this place in her life. Grassy fields surround her, growing outward in every direction. Behind her, where the Ark has now faded to nothing, the grass leads into an ominous forest. The area in front of her causes her eyes to sting; the wind here is strong, waving the grass and vegetation with brute force. Some of the green plants have even been killed off by the intensely low temperature, and are now little more than dried-up skeletons on the ground.

In the far distance, Allen is able to discern flickering lights amidst the darkness of night. Small houses and buildings dot the landscape. There is a town nearby, and a town is sure to bring answers—among other things, which include a meal and a place to stay while she figures out which direction the Order is. And people, too. Yes—being around people should brighten her spirits considerably.

Wrapping her bare arms around herself to keep warm, Allen starts walking.

* * *

The more she sees, the less she recognizes. The abundance of wildlife and vegetation seems to go on forever when Allen starts out on her journey, but by the time the sun rises at dawn, she makes it to the first little town. Up close, within the borders of said town—which really feels more like a village in terms of size—it looks even smaller than she had initially thought. The buildings are small and quaint, with cracked cobblestone streets and infrastructure that is in desperate need of repair. Carriages pass her by at most once every twenty minutes. (Most of them are just the same carriage going back the way it came, she soon realizes.)

As for the people, few of them wander the sidewalks. Those who do are sure to steer clear of the young stranger in their midst, and make pointed efforts to stray away from her path. The ones who pass her seem to have a clear destination in mind as they hurry on their way, most not even sparing Allen a passing glance when she tries to speak with them.

So far, it's extremely lonely—almost as though the white-haired girl is invisible. She cannot even get one of the people to respond to her inquiry of where she is. The place is bleak and depressing.

Allen shivers in the chilly morning air, her scant clothing nowhere near enough to keep her safe from the ravages of cold weather. She's wearing nothing but a pair of pants—clothing that is odd enough for a lady to be wearing in public—and the same white button-up blouse that she had on when she escaped. Now, however, the material is stained with dirt and her blood, and marred by several thin tears. Perhaps this is why the pedestrians are staunchly avoiding her; based upon her haggard appearance, they must think she is yet another mentally deranged homeless person. Allen never understood such a stigma in the first place, but she cannot entirely blame them for staying out of her way when she looks like a murderous bag lady.

_No wonder they're ignoring me._

Still, this does not dissuade her from trying to glean her location from one of the civilians. The white-haired girl lingers on the street corner, fully prepared to jump in someone's way in order to get him or her to acknowledge her. She gets her chance when a flicker of movement catches her attention.

Glancing down the ill-paved street, Allen catches a glimpse of a middle-aged woman passing by with a little boy in tow. Taking a deep breath, she puts on her best smile and steps into the incoming woman's path.

"Excuse me, Miss," she says kindly, nearly allowing her polite façade to slip when the woman pulls the boy closer to her. "Would you mind telling me—"

"I haven't got any money," the woman rudely interrupts, steering her child away from Allen. She breezes past the white-haired girl without so much as making eye contact. "Now leave us alone."

"That's not what I meant!" the young woman exclaims. "I just want to know where I am, if you don't mind my asking."

The older woman glances back at Allen with a suspicious gleam in her eyes. At first the white-haired girl believes she is merely going to walk away like all the others, but instead she sighs heavily.

"You're in the town of Gdynia," she says. "Now go away, please." With that, the woman hurriedly storms off.

* * *

The air smells of the ocean, a familiar scent that fools Allen into believing for a moment that she is near home. England has a similar scent, at least in some parts of the mainland. However, she knows that this cannot be. Judging by the peoples' accents and appearance, she is somewhere in the greater continent of Europe. She has never heard of Gdynia, though; she can only guess as to why the Ark has taken her here.

 **Perhaps you should have been more specific** , Neah tells her, and the young woman frowns angrily as she saunters down the street. It's probably true; her request to the Ark had been vague, not to mention the fact that she is unaccustomed to using her Noah ability. It's no wonder that the location it had dropped her in had been somewhat off.

Even so, Allen does not believe that she deserves to be in this situation. It is beyond cold outside, and the angry clouds in the sky warn of impending rainfall. She wonders what month it is; to her, it seems like winter has already arrived. That would explain the unholy temperature. But if it's winter, then that means…she's been missing for anywhere from _three to four months_. The thought sends a terrifying jolt through her veins. How could so much time have passed?

Either way, the first order of business is to find some food to regain her strength.

Allen goes into the first tavern she comes across, and her senses are immediately assaulted by warmth, idle human chatter, and the appealing aroma of good food. The inside of the tavern is nice and homely, with well-lit dining booths filled partially with smiling patrons. At the bar, a bearded man is drying off a glass with a serene look on his face, but upon seeing her, he frowns.

"Can I help you, Miss?" he asks her, his expression worried.

Allen smiles as she approaches the counter, taking a seat on an unexpectedly comfortable barstool. "Do you have any steak?" she asks, the thought of the juicy meat making her mouth water.

The bartender nods. "Sure do. Well done?"

"Yes."

"And a glass of water for you as well?"

"Yes, please."

This man is the first to treat her with anything resembling respect; the thought puts a grin on her face. The young woman waits patiently for her food, despite the angry protests of her stomach. A warm glow washes through her as she observes her surroundings, as she is still overwhelmed by the realization that she had been a prisoner only a day ago. The fact that she is now sitting in a tavern, awaiting her first voluntary meal in what looks to have been months, almost seems like a dream.

It almost makes her forget about the golden-eyed Noah who still haunts her, lingering in the back of her mind like a festering illness.

She is snapped out of her musings when a plate is set down in front of her, the smell of well-cooked steak inciting a nearly ravenous instinct in the young woman.

But just as she is about to dig in, she hears the bartender say, "That'll be five pence."

The smile drops from her face. That's right—she had forgotten that she no longer has her exorcist coat. The Black Order uniform is treated as a free pass in all member countries, allowing exorcists access to such free commodities as food, train rides, and even overriding the local authorities. Now, without it, she is nothing more than a normal girl—not even that, since Allen has not a single penny to her name.

"I…I don't have any money. I just realized…" she tells the bartender. "I'm sorry, sir. Please accept my apologies."

The bearded man looks at her sadly as she gets up and leaves, but he doesn't say anything to stop her.

As she walks through the door, banishing herself outside once again, Allen realizes that she really is a nobody now; she has no place to stay, no money, no food—she is all but destitute.

As soon as the white-haired girl goes back outside, the sky opens up, and it begins to rain.

* * *

Allen spends the night in an alley, hidden from the pouring rain by the lid of a trashcan after being rejected by every inn she had come across. Not one of the proprietors would let her stay the night without paying, even if it was just in the lobby.

And, of course, she has nothing to give them of any monetary value.

" _It's bad for business to have a vagrant staying here_ , _"_ they had said.

A vagrant. That's right. That's all she is now, at least until she is able to find her way back to the Order.

In any case, the white-haired girl spends the entirety of the night wide-awake, shivering from the near-freezing temperature and the puddles of ice cold water that have collected around her. She hugs her body close, curling up into a ball and even going so far as to pull her arms through her sleeves so as to retain more body heat in her freezing limbs. At least Neah keeps her awake.

Otherwise, she might very well have frozen to death.

* * *

The next morning brings frost, and the thankful end of the rainstorm. However, clouds still hang in the open air, signaling that the worst weather is yet to come.

As the sun climbs higher in the sky, Allen crawls out from beneath the lid of the trashcan, stretching her stiff and frozen limbs in an attempt to restart the flow of her blood. Visible breath clouds her vision, so cold is the morning air. Her fingers feel numb, as do her cheeks and the tip of her nose. She fervently hopes that she does not have frostbite; she has no idea where to go to find a doctor, and no means to pay should she even locate one.

The young woman lingers on the sidewalk for a few minutes, rubbing the exhaustion out of her eyes. She glances down the way she had been going yesterday, not overly eager to continue her journey. Yet she knows that the farther she goes in this direction, the stronger the odor of the sea becomes. If she keeps going this way, she should eventually happen upon a port or harbor. When she reaches it—however long that may take—she should be able to gain information on which way to go in order to get back to the Black Order Headquarters. From there…well, she will either have to stow away on a ship or train, or resort to plain theft as a way to get the means to purchase a ticket. She'd rather not steal from an individual; perhaps the ticket booth would be a better option? Really, thievery isn't an issue for her. At this point, the white-haired girl is willing to do almost anything to get out of here. She'll pay the town back later.

As Allen weighs her options, she is caught off guard by a crippling pain in her back. The breath is knocked out of her lungs as she is struck by something hard, and she sprawls forward on the pavement.

"What do you think you're doing? Get off my property!" a crotchety voice yells, and the white-haired girl pushes herself to her knees to get a better look at her assailant.

An old woman stands behind her crumpled form, brandishing her wooden cane as a weapon.

Confused and in a great deal of pain, Allen simply asks, "Why?"

"Don't play dumb with me!" the old woman chastises her. "I know what you are. It's shameful, what you do, and I won't have you conducting your business outside my home. Just because your deformed hand kept you from getting a real job doesn't give you the right to set up shop wherever you so choose!"

 _Business? What is she…?_ Suddenly, the woman's accusation dawns on her. "But…but I'm not a prostitute, ma'am! I'm just a…" _An exorcist who's down on her luck? Yeah, right. I shouldn't attract any more attention to myself._

"Uh-huh," the old woman scoffs. "And I ain't Polish. Now get off my property before I strike you a second time!"

Just as the woman raises her cane for another blow, Allen takes off running.

* * *

Where she is supposed to go now, Allen has no idea. She walks somberly along the cracked sidewalk, and exhaustion nearly results in her face-planting on the pavement. Her hunger-addled mind is unable to see the jagged crack in the road until it's too late. She stumbles to her knees, scraping the delicate skin through her pants.

Out of nowhere, a wave of misery washes over her with relentless fervor, and the young woman has to bite back her cry of agony. It's not that her knees really hurt; she has suffered much worse injuries than a scuffed knee. It isn't her body that is in pain, though the stabs of hunger are quite severe.

It's her heart.

Through a film of tears, Allen is barely able to make out the shape of the only lit building on the road. Candles, hidden beneath storm covers, illuminate the structure in a halo of light that is almost otherworldly. The young woman rubs the tears from her eyes, straining to read the old sign out front.

_St. Michael Archangel Church._

_A church? Surely they won't turn me away…_

Inside, the building is similarly lit, with various large candles aligned on the walls that bring out the brilliant colors of the stained glass windows. They cast brightly hued shadows on the pews, further reinforcing the impression that this place is not part of this world.

At the very front of the church there is a multitude of arranged candles, all lit so as to flood the entire room with light and heat. It reaches every corner, filling Allen with warmth as she steps inside. What shocks the young woman the most, however, is the fact that no one is here. The church stands completely empty; not even a minister or preacher occupies the front pew.

Deciding not to question a good situation, Allen chooses a pew located near the back of the church, and lies down for her first restful sleep in months.

* * *

"Miss, are you okay? Miss?"

Consciousness returns to Allen slowly, and for a few seconds she has to struggle to remember where she is—and why the surface beneath her feels like hard wood. Soon enough, she recalls that hard wood is exactly what she is sleeping on; her back will definitely hate her for this later today.

"Miss?" A masculine voice repeats his initial greeting, and it is then that the young woman realizes that the voice is addressing _her_.

She sits up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and releasing a large yawn. She brushes the hair out of her face with clumsy fingers, begrudging its obvious increase in length since her disappearance.

When she clears her vision, she meets the soft brown gaze of an older man with receding dark hair and a scruffy beard.

"Good morning," she says, her voice scratchy. "I'm sorry, do you work here? Should I leave?"

The man looks at her strangely, his gaze searching. "No, it's fine. I just decided to come by here before I start my workday. It's part of my daily routine, you see." He seems hesitant to say anything more, and takes a deep breath. "Listen…you seem hungry, young lady. If you want, I would be more than willing to give you some sandwiches. I'm a cart salesman, you see. My goods are set up right outside."

Allen is skeptical at first, but doesn't sense anything off about the man even after intensely scrutinizing him. He definitely isn't an Akuma, and he appears genuine enough.

"If it would be okay with you," she finally says.

To her surprise, the man is telling the truth. A cart loaded with wrapped sandwiches awaits the pair when they exit the church, and Allen's stomach growls loudly upon seeing it.

As the man goes to grab one, the white-haired girl blurts out, "I don't have any money, sir."

He turns to look at her, incredulity written across his aged face. "I know that," he says cheerily, holding out a satchel.

The young woman takes it from him, tentatively peeking inside the bag to see five wrapped sandwiches.

Her jaw goes slack at the gesture. "This is…far too generous. I couldn't—"

"You need them, Miss," the man tells her. "Please take them. I have far too many as it is. I could not possibly sell them all. At least this way, they won't go to waste."

Grateful tears sting her eyes at the man's generosity, and she smiles brokenly at him. "Thank you."

Just as she says that, a cold wind blows past them, and the white-haired girl shivers violently in response. Without her saying a word, the man unbuttons his overcoat, sliding it casually off his shoulders and coming over to Allen. Despite her protests, he settles the coat over her shoulders, and she is instantly enveloped by warmth.

"Sir, please don't!" she exclaims, noting his sorry excuse for underclothes. "All you've got left is a button-up and slacks!"

"And what have you got?" he fires back, effectively silencing the young woman. "That's what I thought. Now listen here: You need that coat far more than I do. It's served me well, and my wife will probably skin me alive for ditching it, but by now I'm used to the harsh Polish winters. You think November's bad, just wait till December comes around!"

Allen giggles at his melodrama, hope filling her heart for the first time in a long while. "I don't know what to say…" she whispers, unable to verbalize her gratitude in a way befitting of this degree of altruism. "Please know that you have my deepest thanks."

The young woman stands stock-still as the man bows to her, caught off guard by the unexpected gesture. "It's my pleasure to help a kind young lady such as yourself. I know that things may seem bleak right now, Miss, but know that you'll always have a friend somewhere. Help isn't too hard to find, if one looks in the right places."

Allen smiles again, her heart fluttering. Then, she gasps in shock as pain blooms on her left side of her face. Just as she feels her cursed eye activate, her hand flies up to cover it.

_Akuma!_

The pain is intense, so much so that she hurriedly turns her back on the man for fear of scaring him with her grotesque eye.

"I'm sorry," she gasps. "I have to go!" With that, she takes off running, ignoring the worried calls of the man behind her.

 _There are so many of them_ , she thinks as she sprints down the street, drifting closer and closer to the horde she can sense in the distance. _How did I not sense them earlier? Were they too far away? They couldn't possibly have arrived all at once!_

She runs as fast as she can, the pain intensifying with every step as she senses the Akuma getting closer, closer…and suddenly, fewer. As quickly as they had arrived, they start disappearing, flashing out of existence one by one. By the time Allen senses them just around the corner of the next alleyway, there is all but one left.

"Crown Clown!" she yells, invoking her arm as she leaps around the corner.

The young woman almost can't believe her eyes. The last Akuma, a mere Level One, is sliced to ribbons with the glint of a katana just as she arrives on the scene; the grotesque creature explodes out of existence, leaving only one other being with her in the alley.

Above all else, Allen notices a few key details about the person—familiar details that for the second time that day, bring tears to her eyes.

A katana is thrust back into its sheath by the wielder, whose long ponytail whips around as he turns in her direction. As the pair's eyes meet, both find themselves at a loss for words. One, because he is certain that his mind is playing tricks on him, the other because she has never been happier to see this man in all her life.

Allen grins broadly, deactivating her Innocence and allowing a torrent of tears to slide down her cheeks. "Hi, Kanda."


	20. A Meeting of Ghosts

At first, Allen has no idea what else she should say, if anything at all. Pervasive silence fills the air, courtesy of the samurai's ineptitude at starting a meaningful conversation and Allen's own inability to gather words that are beyond a pathetic greeting.

Well, at least she tried.

Meanwhile, Kanda is staring at the white-haired girl with a perplexed expression on his usually stoic face. For her part, though she would normally laugh out loud at the man's dumbfounded demeanor, Allen cannot blame him for being dead silent. It's likely that both of them—she doesn't know what he had thought with any certainty—had been convinced that the other was dead. A healthy dose of shock is to be expected from a meeting between two ghosts.

The young woman doesn't expect the swordsman to instigate any type of conversation, so she is pleasantly surprised when he does.

"Moyashi?" he says, his eyes glancing at her body from head to toe. He takes in her disheveled appearance as though struggling to reconcile her existence with his expectations, his eyes full of such intensity that Allen doesn't bother to lash out at him for using his usual derogatory nickname.

She suddenly feels self-conscious; she looks down at herself, at her ratty clothes and the tan overcoat that had been gifted to her by the kind Polish man. She doesn't even want to think about the bloodstains that mar the shirt's whiteness—she looks as though she's been in a bar brawl.

Though, in reality, the fight the white-haired girl had been in was much worse than a regular scuffle in a bar.

"Oh," she mutters, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as a result of her inherent tendencies to dress in well-kept clothing. Though this trend had only started once she met Mana and began wearing proper clothes instead of rags, she feels no less dirty now that she is in the presence of an acquaintance. Her horrid state of attire had slipped her mind, considering that she had much larger problems to deal with. But now that Kanda is here, now that she is back in the company of someone she would even call friend, those problems seem much farther away.

She returns her flustered gaze to the samurai, who is still staring at her as though she is a ghost.

"I probably don't look too good, do I?" she asks Kanda, a tiny smirk playing across her features. "I haven't had the best of luck lately. I—"

"Mugen, activate!"

The white-haired girl freezes up in shock as the swordsman sprints forward, pulling his katana out of its sheath with lightning-fast reflexes—reflexes that, given her present state of being, are almost too quick for her to dodge.

"Huh?!"

Allen feels the wind produced by his sword as it swishes by her head, only managing to dodge the blow in time to save her neck. Her back hits the wall, and she slides to the left just as Mugen pierces the stone beside her head.

"Innocence, activate!" she yells, her arm reforming just in time to stop Kanda from slicing her in half. She barely manages to hold the samurai at bay, her arm shaking with the effort it takes to keep Mugen from cutting her combined with her lack of nutrition. Her free hand drops the satchel of sandwiches she had received earlier to focus all her energy on keeping Kanda from murdering her where she stands.

_Why does everyone keep attacking me?!_

"What the hell is wrong with you, Bakanda?!" the young woman spits, her breathing labored as she forces Mugen farther away from her face.

When the long-haired man catches sight of her transformed arm, the expression on his face changes from one of unbridled fury to one of pure shock. Allen nearly falls forward when Kanda suddenly releases the pressure he is putting on her arm. He still holds his katana out in a defensive posture, but he doesn't appear to be trying to kill her anymore.

With narrowed eyes, he asks, "It's really you?" His voice is tense, full of suspicion for the woman in front of him.

Allen's eyes nearly bulge out of her head. "Of course it's me, Bakanda! Didn't you see my arm earlier?!"

"Tch."

The white-haired girl can hardly believe her ears. _How can he be acting so nonchalant right now?_ "You almost try to cut me in half, and now suddenly you act like everything is normal? Don't you want some more proof? All you eat are those weird Japanese noodles, you call Lavi a baka usagi, and let's not forget about the time you let Lenalee braid your—"

"Shut it, Moyashi," Kanda growls. He huffs again, sheathing Mugen and crossing his arms at the young woman. "Now I remember what makes you so annoying."

"I'm not annoying. You're just _slow_."

He growls again, but truthfully, her insult to his speed is half-hearted. She couldn't care less at the moment about his cracks at either her height or her personality; she doesn't have any interest in settling the score of insults between them.

Right now, she is just happy, so unbelievably _happy_ , to see a familiar face.

At that moment, she is suddenly reminded of the tears that still linger on her face and the stinging sensation in her eyes. Allen hurriedly swipes at them with her human hand, cursing herself for crying in front of _Kanda_ of all people; no doubt he will use it as ammunition later.

 _Oh, well_ , she thinks. She cannot care less about being made fun of. As long as it's Kanda who's doing it to her, she will happily subject herself to his jabs.

The Japanese man watches her wipe away her tears with dispassionate eyes, his angry demeanor now somewhat diminished.

"Well…I believe you," he finally says, "but what are you doing here? How did you escape from the Noah? And what the hell happened to you three months ago?"

The white-haired girl tenses at the man's questions, and she deactivates her arm. Glancing around herself, she says, "It's a long story. Can we…maybe not talk about this here?"

Kanda stares at her strangely, scrutinizing her in a way that makes Allen fidget in discomfort, but he doesn't refute her or argue against her wishes. Instead, he sighs.

"Fine," he mutters, irritation lacing his voice. "Then let's go find an inn. I was planning on leaving today, but you look terrible, so we might as well spend the night and have you rested enough to not drop dead on your feet tomorrow. I'd like to get out of here with as little trouble as possible."

"You don't have anything else you have to do here? There's no Innocence to collect?"

"No. My mission is completed. Now come on."

 _As impatient as ever. Still a jerk._ Even so, she follows him wordlessly, a tiny smirk the only clue as to her real mood.

* * *

Allen dimly recognizes the area of town that Kanda leads her to. It's the same road that she had already passed the day before—the one that houses all of the inns that had rejected her. This is the tourist spot in town, not that there are that many things to see.

And what's worse is that life isn't complete without a bit of irony—Kanda walks right up to the same place where she had been struck by the old woman the day before. The white-haired girl stops at the foot of the steps, anxious to go any further.

When Kanda notices that she is no longer next to him, he turns around, shooting her an irritated glance when he sees her hesitation.

"What is it?" he mutters, already halfway up the steps.

She shakes her head. "Nothing. It's just…can we find somewhere else to stay for the night, please? I don't think the owner likes me very much, is all. There was this really nice man who I ran into at a church…"

The samurai stares at her as though she's gone insane. "What the hell are you talking about? I stayed here last night and the owner seemed fine, if not a little unhinged. Besides, this is the only vacant place left. There's a festival starting in the next town over in a few days."

"I don't know…"

Kanda rolls his eyes at her. "Who cares? It's a place to sleep. Now come on, Moyashi."

She suddenly recalls just how annoying the samurai can be when he tries. Still, she follows the other exorcist up the stairs and into the quaint little building despite her body's protests.

The bell on the door rings as they step inside, and the woman at the front desk glances up at them with shrewd eyes. Allen pales dramatically. It's the same old woman from before—the one who had hit her with a cane. Her weapon of choice sits untouched by the desk, just out of reach of her unless she leans over. The thought reassures the white-haired girl somewhat, but the sight of the blunt object still sends a phantom pain throbbing through her back.

_This isn't going to end well._

"Can I get a room again? There's been a change of plans," Kanda says, stepping up to the desk while Allen lingers timidly behind him, willing herself to disappear.

Just as she had feared, the woman takes one look at Kanda, then at the white-haired girl who is standing behind him, and her eyes darken with pure disgust.

"Didn't I tell you to stay away from my property?" she says to Allen in an angry voice. "I won't have you in here!"

Kanda is understandably confused by the old woman's erratic behavior; he glances over to Allen, who is currently wishing for her body to sink into the floorboards. "What the hell is going on?" he intervenes, addressing the old woman.

"And _you_ ," the woman seethes at Kanda, pointing a bony finger in his face that he looks at with mild disgust. "Have you no manners? Bringing a whore to a respectable inn is beyond rude. Get her out of here—take her to a brothel instead of sullying my rooms, do you hear me?"

"Whore?" The Japanese man looks back at Allen, whose face is so flushed with impotent rage that she fears she might just snap and strangle the old woman herself. "What are you talking about, old woman?"

"I'm talking about the girl standing next to you! I caught her loitering around here yesterday, too. Stay away from her, young man. You never know what sorts of ills people like her have. Disgusting." She sneers in Allen's direction, turning her nose up at the young woman.

After the old woman's explanation, it finally seems to dawn on Kanda what she is implying. At the realization, his face contorts into a mask of rage, turning a putrid shade of red to match the white-haired girl's. Allen expects him to launch into a tirade on the innkeeper's idiocy, but instead she finds herself surprised by his words.

"Who are you to pass judgment on people?" the samurai spits at the old woman. "Do you have any idea who we are?"

"I know very well," the woman snaps back. "You're a member of the Black Order. Why do you think I gave you free room and board last night?"

"Then you should also know that we exorcists spend our entire lives saving your worthless sack of skin." These are harsh words, even coming from Kanda, and Allen can tell that he knows it.

Instead of being taken aback, the old woman merely huffs. "And now, you choose to come back and make a mockery of my hospitality. Listen here, I do what the Order requests, but that doesn't mean I believe in any of your mumbo jumbo. I haven't seen any demons around here, so what reason do I have to believe you? If you ask me, giving you one free night was more than enough! And you want to come back and bring some harlot with you?"

"First of all," Kanda says, his voice warning of the dangerous level of anger within his system, " _she isn't a prostitute_ , you old bat. Anyone with two eyes can see that. And even if she were, you would still give us the room."

"And just why on God's green Earth would I do that?"

As if provoked by her words, Kanda suddenly leans closer to the old woman. Their faces are now close enough to be almost touching, two pairs of infuriated eyes boring into one another. Caught off guard by the Japanese man's audacity to invade her personal space, the old woman takes a clumsy step backwards.

"Because," the swordsman says in a terrifyingly quiet voice, his hand inching towards Mugen's hilt, "I don't care if you are an old woman. I'll cut this whole place down and your cane with it, without paying you a dime. Let's see how much you like being destitute."

The old woman swallows dryly, her eyes riveted on the katana at Kanda's side. Her beady eyes are still blazing with fury, but Allen can see from her stance that she knows she has lost. The samurai is ten times as angry as she is—and more than fifty times as volatile. Even the white-haired girl cannot tell at this moment whether or not he is serious about his threat, but she wouldn't put it past him.

"Fine," the innkeeper spits, "You want a room? Pay me fifty pence and we'll call it even." Throughout her offer, she doesn't take her watchful gaze off of Mugen.

Kanda's eyes, meanwhile, are bulging with disbelief. "Fifty pence? The room rates say twenty-five for a night!"

"Yeah, well, let's just say you'd be getting a suite."

Allen can practically hear the samurai's teeth grinding together; she guesses that he is debating the pros and cons of cutting down the old lady right about now. "You old hag—"

"We'll take it," the white-haired girl cuts in before Kanda can finish his sentence; at the rate he's going, the both of them are going to end up sleeping outside tonight. It hadn't been too terrible for Allen when she was on her own, but she doesn't relish the thought of spending a cold night outside with an angry Kanda.

The old woman begrudgingly nods at her. "And none of that Black Order payment bollocks either. You either give me real money or you get out."

Kanda grumbles as he digs around in his pockets, the vein in his forehead throbbing with rage.

"Thank you, ma'am," Allen says politely, and the samurai shoots her a dirty look as if to berate her for even being courteous to the old woman.

"Here," he hisses, dropping the money into the woman's palm. In return, she hands him a key.

"Room twenty-one," she tells them, pocketing the money and returning to the chair behind her desk.

As soon as the room door closes behind them, Kanda punches the wall with vigor. "That damn woman," he gripes, depositing Mugen against the wall. "How thick can she be?"

Allen grins subtly at the Japanese man's frustration, even if she too wishes that she could punch the woman's lights out. Kanda may be angry that he had to pay money, but it's still nice that he actually bothered to stand up for her…even if it was for selfish reasons.

"Maybe you shouldn't have threatened her," the white-haired girl comments dryly, a smirk on her face.

"Well maybe _you_ should have stood up for yourself. You can't just let people walk all over you like that."

"You mean like you did to me when we first met?"

"…Shut up. At least now you fight back."

The young woman releases a breathy laugh, surveying the room and its provisions. Among other things, it includes a bedside table, a bathroom, a fireplace, and a bed. One bed, she notices; it looks as though one of them will be sleeping on the floor tonight. Sharing a bed with Kanda is never a good idea, nor does she think the samurai would even be receptive to it. He would probably punch her in his sleep.

Allen sighs. Since Kanda had paid for the room, she reasons that it's only fair for her to get the carpet; at least there's a fireplace to keep her warm, which is significantly better than a trashcan lid. Her extremities still feel as though they are going to fall off from the severe cold they had been exposed to during the past few days.

The white-haired girl takes a seat on the floor in front of the fireplace and begins to settle the logs. Reaching for the book of matches atop the mantle, she ignites the wood. It takes some time, but she is eventually able to get a small fire going. It adds a warm glow to the otherwise dreary atmosphere, and lulls Allen into a sense of comfort that she had not experienced in some time—not since Tyki had taken her hostage.

_Stop thinking about him. You're free now—get him out of your head._

Still, his face reappears in her mind despite her best efforts, and even the soothing fire is not enough to banish it. It's something about what the old woman had said, something that reminds her of the Noah of Pleasure and causes her insides to tie into painful knots.

She closes her eyes in an attempt to dispel the feeling, and soon the crackle and pop of the flames begins to compel Allen towards sleep. She leans back against the foot of the bed, allowing her head to rest on the side of the mattress. It's actually fairly comfortable; she senses the tide of sleep begin to pull her under…

"What are you doing?"

The young woman is yanked back into wakefulness at the sound of Kanda's surly voice. His question confuses her. "Um…sleeping? I was hoping to, anyway. It's been a long day."

"On the floor?"

"I don't think that woman would take too kindly to me polluting her bed with my indecency," Allen jokes, trying to lighten the mood from the dark one that had been plaguing her thoughts moments before.

"Get up."

The white-haired girl is taken aback by Kanda's gruff demand. "What? Why?"

"You take the bed," he says, glancing her over once again. "God knows you look like you need it."

It's hard not to feel insulted by his blunt statement, but Allen knows that it's as nice of a gesture as she's ever going to get from the samurai. She might as well take advantage of it.

"Really? Uh…thank you, Kanda. That's very…considerate of you." These words feel strange in her mouth. Even so, she gets up and walks over to the bed, almost groaning aloud when she settles upon it. Her bruised back feels heavenly, as does the rest of her worn-out body.

"Moyashi."

"Hm, Bakanda?"

"…That old woman is crazy. She doesn't know what she's talking about. She doesn't understand anything about us. So just ignore her."

That's easier said than done, but Allen can still appreciate Kanda's efforts to convince her of it. She might not be a whore in the traditional sense of the word—she isn't a prostitute—but the insult still stings. After all, she _had_ slept with someone voluntarily—and not for love. And though she had not bedded Tyki for money, she had done so of her own volition, in order to escape—not only that, but to her eternal shame, she had even _enjoyed_ it.

And that's when the young woman realizes why the innkeeper's words bother her so much—because somewhere, deep down inside her, she worries that they are true. What does that say about her?

_What does that make me?_

Throughout the night, Allen cannot find a suitable answer.

* * *

When Kanda wakes up the next morning, his entire world is still tilted sideways.

Literally, this time—he's lying on his side, curled up on the floor where he had gone to sleep last night. The samurai sighs, thinking back to the series of strange events that had occurred yesterday.

When he had first run into the Moyashi, he had immediately jumped to the conclusion that she was an Akuma in disguise, or perhaps even an illusion created by the Noah of Dreams in order to throw him off. He should have automatically discerned that no illusion could be so perfect, nor could it copy the Moyashi's mannerisms so exactly. Still, because of his hotheaded tendencies, he had attacked her anyway.

He never claimed to be perfect.

Yet in his gut, he knows that it's her. She has the same appearance, the same new Innocence that she had developed a while back. She still banters with him the same way as before, which makes him question Cross's warning to him on the night that he had snuck into the General's room.

" _Be careful around her, Kanda. When my apprentice returns…she will not be the same."_

Now that he's found her, the swordsman still doesn't understand what the red-haired man had meant. However, he _does_ know that seeing her again is affecting him in a way that is wholly uncharacteristic of the stoic man. She's still annoying, of course—not even the baka usagi has her beat in that regard—but her annoyance is sidelined by the shock that she is actually _here_.

And, to Kanda's surprise, he finds that he is even somewhat relieved to see her. His entire existence for the past three months seems to have been based around getting her back, and now that it's finally happened—albeit without his help—his confusion has grown tenfold.

Where is he going to go from here? Are they going to go back to Headquarters—a place that he is not even sure is safe for her—and pretend as though nothing ever happened? He knows that she will want to go back to the Order if it's the last thing she does, but should he let her? For some reason, the thought of doing so makes him want to simultaneously vomit and strangle Leverrier to death. As a fellow exorcist, he knows that he should warn her of the presence of Central at Headquarters.

As a fellow exorcist. Nothing more.

A breeze blows through the room then, eliciting a shiver from the Japanese man and an audible _creak_ from the bathroom door in front of him. When the door slides open a crack, Kanda's eyes almost bulge out of his head.

The Moyashi is standing in the bathroom, her eyes downcast as she threads a comb through her hair. And, the samurai immediately notices, she isn't wearing any clothes aside from a pair of undergarments. Kanda flushes a deep shade of scarlet, but he cannot tear his eyes away from the white-haired girl.

And when he sees just exactly what state her body is in, a cold feeling runs through his veins.

Bruises. From head to toe, she is covered in bruises and cuts. There are purplish spots on her hips, on her shoulders, and a large, ugly one on her bare back. Cuts are scattered all over her limbs and torso as well, which explains exactly why her shirt is stained with blood.

 _What the hell happened to her? Did the Noah do this?_ The thought sends a spark of anger through his body.

But when the young woman pulls her hair away from her neck to work out the knots, Kanda stiffens. On her neck are several smaller bruises, each one forming a sequential pattern on her throat. Surely those marks could not have been accidental, so where are they from? The Noah must have given them to her, but how?

What did they do to her?

Just as the swordsman ponders this question, Allen finishes combing her wet hair and redresses. Throughout the process, Kanda can tell that she is being overly careful not to cause herself any more pain; her body really is a mess.

The Japanese man closes his eyes as she steps back into the room, deciding to pretend as though he hadn't seen anything abnormal. The white-haired Moyashi would definitely object to being spied on while she dresses, he thinks with a traitorous blush.

But even so, he cannot get the image of her bruised and beaten body out of his head.

He pretends to awaken as soon as he feels her take a seat on the bed, stretching his limbs and groaning for a more convincing act.

"Moyashi," he calls. "You awake?"

"Yeah," she responds, her voice tired and groggy. She sounds exhausted, but still significantly more rested than she had been yesterday, if the bags under her eyes were any indication. "We should head back to the Order as soon as possible, Kanda. It's time for me to get back to everyone…to be honest, it may sound stupid to you, but I've been missing home for a while now."

The young woman sounds so hopeful that Kanda almost regrets his next words.

Almost.

"We aren't going back," the swordsman harshly declares, standing up and running a hand through his ponytail to make sure there aren't any knots. He starts to pack up his sleeping gear with a stoic face, turning his back on the white-haired girl.

"What are you talking about?" Allen demands of him, her expression both bewildered and defiant. "We have to go back, Kanda! We're exorcists. It's our duty. I refuse to desert the Order."

Kanda sighs heavily. "And what if the Order has turned its back on you?"

Her jaw drops open, disbelief written across her features. "What…?"

He arches his eyebrows at her. "Moyashi…how long have you been away from the Noah?"

The white-haired girl ponders his question, her expression pensive. "I believe it's been only a few days. Why?"

"So you haven't run into any other exorcists?"

She shakes her head.

"So you wouldn't know. I'm sure if another exorcist found you they would try to take you back with them. For almost the past two months, Central has been keeping tabs on Headquarters and all the other branches of the Order. There are guards and interrogators stationed there, all asking questions about you, your life, who you talked to, what you were doing before you disappeared—everything. What's more is that Cross came back—"

"Master's there?!" Allen exclaims, her silver eyes ablaze. "He's back?! Since when?!"

"Not long after you left. And don't interrupt me, idiot!" Kanda says, irritated at being shafted by the young woman. "That's not the point! What I'm trying to say is that Central is after you."

"After me? As in a manhunt?"

Kanda nods, his face grim.

The white-haired now looks more sad than confused. "But why? It's not like I deserted the Order! I was…"

Kanda takes a step closer to her. "You were what, Moyashi?"

The young woman's mouth hangs open, and she shakes her head. "…I was taken hostage by the Noah. I didn't _choose_ to leave everyone. The others know that, right?"

"...Lenalee still thinks you're coming back. As for the baka usagi, his Bookman mindset is probably telling him otherwise. I know for a fact that Komui still believes in you, too. Cross…well, he thinks you're going to come back too, but that's about as much as I know."

Allen nods at him, a small smile on her face. "That's good. It's good that they at least don't think I betrayed them…the whole time I was gone, that was one of my biggest worries."

The Japanese man knows that she isn't telling the whole truth, but he doesn't push her to tell him. God help him, he almost feels _bad_ for her right now. Kanda may despise the Order and all of the simpletons who run it, but it clearly means much more to Allen. He can understand why she feels so strongly about being hunted by the same organization she has sworn her life to protect. Yet despite his empathy, he still takes on the much-needed role of insensitive realist.

"It doesn't matter what actually happened," he tells the white-haired girl. "Central's looking for you and snooping around in your personal life. Going back would only cause trouble."

From the defeated look on her face, Kanda guesses that he has convinced her.

He is proven entirely wrong in the next second.

"I know," she whispers, so quietly that the Japanese man almost has to strain to hear her, "but I still have to go back."

He almost cannot believe his ears—though he supposes he shouldn't be surprised at this point. She always does manage to find new ways of shocking him. "Didn't you hear me, Moyashi? They're sending people over to interrogate us about you! Since when is that ever a _good_ thing? Who knows what Central is planning to—"

" _Kanda_ ," Allen interrupts him. "I heard you the first time. Thank you for telling me—I really do appreciate it—but I refuse to abandon the Order, even if they think I abandoned them. Besides…we don't really know the reason why they're hunting me, do we? This doesn't mean that I'll be branded a traitor. There's still hope." The white-haired girl closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, and when she opens them, her silver orbs are hardened with resolve. "I didn't choose to leave the Order, but I _do_ choose to return. If I don't, I can't really call myself an exorcist, can I? And…and if you refuse to take me back with you, then I'll just find my own way!"

For the life of him, Kanda cannot tell if the young woman is unbelievably stupid or unbelievably brave. He's leaning more towards the former, but people don't call him a cynic for nothing. However, he knows one thing for certain: With the way she is staring at him, with her jaw set and a determined gleam in her eyes, the samurai finds it impossible to refuse her request. He still thinks she's an idiot, but it's obvious to him that she will only ignore him if he tries to convince her further.

And there's no way in hell he's going to let her wander off on her own again—not after he's finally found her dumb ass.

Kanda sighs, picking up Mugen and his meager supplies. "Fine," he relents, not missing how her eyes suddenly light up, "but first, we have to get you some new clothes. You look terrible."

* * *

Allen fidgets in discomfort, put off by the scratchy clothes she has been all but forced into wearing. Of all the unattended trunks there are at the train station's baggage claim, the two of them just _had_ to pick the one with all of the middle-class feminine garments. The white-haired girl is used to wearing pants, or at least something a little looser on her frame. But while the long skirt and flowery blouse might be uncomfortable for her (and extremely tight), at least she fits into the crowd reasonably well.

Kanda has already gotten their tickets (he managed to get her a free one through his usual brand of intimidation and clout), and they are now waiting to board the train.

As they stand in line, the white-haired girl glances down at her feet. These shoes have definitely seen better days; they are now the only things she has left that tie her to her time spent in the Ark—them, and the horrible marks left all over her body. Her left hand subconsciously reaches upwards to caress her neck. It's still sore; she can only hope that the marks will go away by the time her and Kanda get back to the Order. But even if they do, the young woman cannot help but feel as though she will forever remain marked in a non-physical way. Will people be able to tell what has happened to her? Is there something different in the way she acts, in the way she moves? Allen feels as though her entire being has been altered, but is it true? Or is it merely a side effect of whatever mental strain has been put on her?

She hopes fervently that it's the latter.

"Come on, Moyashi," Kanda says irritably, snapping Allen out of her bubble of thought. She hasn't been paying attention to her surroundings—Kanda is already on the train, waiting for her to join him.

Blushing fiercely at her inattentiveness, she follows after him, all the while cursing the inconvenience of her outfit. The exorcists walk to the very back of the locomotive, taking their seats without so much as a word. Allen takes the window seat, and almost smiles as she glances through the glass barrier. It reminds her of all of the missions she has been on for the Order, where she had taken the time to observe the scenery she could have never imagined seeing in England.

She watches the platform with hungry eyes, taking in the impressive architecture of the station and the familiar comings and goings of the people searching for their trains. It's relaxing to the white-haired girl.

Allen hears the conductor yell "All aboard," and a few minutes later, the rumbling of the train car indicates their departure. White smoke belches out of the train, flooding the adjacent platform and blocking the young woman's view for a brief moment. As the smoke clears partway, it takes Allen a moment to deduce her slow-moving surroundings.

And when she does, she freezes in her seat.

The white-haired girl's hands painfully grip the arms of her chair, and she feels her face drain of color. Within the clearing smoke, Allen sees a man staring back at her—a familiar man, dressed impeccably in a top hat and regal suit.

_Tyki…_

Allen blinks rapidly, and in the next second, the man is gone. She releases a shaky breath, and Kanda glances over at her with a troubled expression.

"What is it, Moyashi? Since when are you scared of trains?"

She tries to smile, but the gesture ends up looking more like a grimace. "It's nothing," she tells the Japanese man in a weak voice. "I'm fine. It's been a long time, is all."

Kanda clearly doesn't believe her, but he doesn't press the issue.

 _That's right_ , Allen tells herself. _It's fine. It must have just been a man who looks like Tyki—a trick of the light. There's no way that he knows where I am already, and even if he does, he surely would have attacked me by now. That's it. Everything's fine. I'm going back to the Order, and everything will be fine._

_I'm…I'm okay now._


	21. A Kiss of Death

A man can lose everything in a single moment. His life, his property, his family—if there is one thing Tyki knows, it is how fleeting the end of the world can be. And, more often than not, this is the way things turn out for people in the end. A simple mistake can be a kiss of death—and it is incredibly harder to predict when it is disguised a breath of life.

 _But it certainly had been wonderful while it lasted_ , Tyki thinks.

He is a horrible mess; he can feel a war raging inside of his heart, an unknown shadow taking root in his own, a hate blinding him. Try as he might to resist, the Noah creeps inside of his mind.

Only one thing keeps him sane.

He remembers how warm she feels when she pulls him closer to her, how she implores him to stay with her. Why would he reject her? He has often fantasized about her taking the lead—well, perhaps not the lead, but at least being the initiator. And of course, she knows that—this is why she had wanted him to stay. It's not because she really wants him.

She has told him that she hates him; he can see how he makes her sick just by looking at him. A twinge of rage flows through him, but Tyki forces the sensation down, trying to reclaim a motionless calm for his thoughts…

_Keep it together. Keep both sides together._

**Stop being so weak** , Joyd tells him. **You heard what the Earl said about Allen. She's the Fourteenth. She betrayed you—and her grandmother betrayed you. I can barely remember my death at her hands, but I feel something whenever I see that white-haired wench's face. Do you want to listen to me now?**

_Why should I care? That's your problem…I just need to figure out how to keep both sides together…both Black and White…_

His mind recalls the image of Allen again, of how she looks at him when he lays her down. She always seems shy and unsuspecting, but determined as well. He pretends that this determination is a byproduct of her intent to be with him; he pretends that she wants him.

He pretends that she wants him when she curls her fingers in his hair, and that she is moaning with ecstasy and not a mixture of sorrow and revulsion as he laves her throat and chest with attention.

**She never loved me. Or you.**

Tyki tries to ignore the Noah inside him, but the noise is awfully difficult to push aside. He's thinking of what he actually wants, and Joyd is trying to distract him. He's thinking of what he actually wants, and not of what he refuses to acknowledge. Oh, he knows that he will have to face this dilemma eventually; he will either be absorbed by Joyd's memories or…or what? Keep putting up this façade, which only seems to grow weaker and weaker by the day? He doesn't want to think about it right now.

The Noah of Pleasure recalls how his body instantly reacts to her soft touch, how unusual it feels to be held in her arms in the same way he has held her. He shudders at how wet she is when he brushes his member against her, and runs his hands down the skin of her thighs with feather-light touches. He doesn't want to hurt her as he had all of those other times; doing so will only scare her away, and he isn't about to give this moment up.

 **Get a hold of yourself! Stop letting these thoughts suck you back to her!** Joyd's presence is so loud and commanding that it nearly drives Tyki insane—but he still holds onto the vision of the white-haired girl, refusing to allow his consciousness to slip any further away from him.

Allen's body feels therapeutic against his as he moves inside of her, so much so that he almost tears the sheets in his white-knuckled fists. But she anchors him to her, and he stares into her silver eyes as he drives himself to insanity. He holds onto this image of her, through all of the pain and the anger and the fear, because it somehow feels all right when he remembers how she looks. She is beautiful in her euphoric state, with her white locks sweaty and tousled. Her silver orbs are hooded, her lips bright red and swollen. In this moment, she looks more human, more alive and at peace than Tyki has seen her for the past few months.

Now that the golden-eyed man considers it, Allen hadn't appeared happy or even remotely calm whenever he had seen her. When she was here, she always looked afraid, or disgusted, or angry—she had even ridiculed him before.

He wonders what his life would be like if she actually wanted him. If what the Earl and Joyd are saying is true, and she is a Noah, then what exactly is stopping him from claiming her? If she were to actually care for his well-being as she does for her exorcist friends—as she does for that samurai—then could things have gone differently?

He remembers then what she had told him when she first moved into his room—the first time he had been with her since that night in China. She had told him of how she had gotten pregnant with his child and lost it, all without him ever knowing. If things hadn't gone the way they had, and she had not been taken to the Ark, would he have ever known? If she had carried the child to term…would she have kept it?

She had never answered him, though he had implored her to; despite his proclamation that she would have, she had still never confirmed it. Who knows if anything she had said was true—what if she had lied about miscarrying? What if she had just gotten rid of it?

The thought of not knowing sends his blood boiling again, but he manages to hold back the anger, and what's more, he holds back the pain…and the regret. He has never given any real thought to the idea of having a child. Though Sheril seems to thoroughly enjoy playing the role of father, Tyki has never envisioned such a life for himself. He has never considered the fact that he may one day fill a paternal role in some faceless child's life…and now, he supposes, he never will. But if he had been a father…would his child be normal? Human? Or would it be some sort of superhuman, a Noah like him?

 _And like her_ , he reminds himself, because according to the Earl and Joyd, Allen Walker is a Noah as well—or, at least, she will be. Even now, the mere concept of the white-haired girl being a Noah fills Tyki with the overwhelming urge to deny such a thing. How can she be a Noah if she's also an exorcist? Can such an event occur? But if the Earl says so…all of a sudden, all of Joyd's insane ramblings make much more sense. How he had deemed her a traitor, and told him that she had ruined his life; the strange phrases that he sometimes mutters under his breath, the subtle little clues that may unlock his long-buried memories…it all makes sense, and from an objective standpoint, he can see how this should be driving him insane. And it is—Tyki can barely contain his Noah's strength at this point.

The only thing that keeps him from flying off the handle are these thoughts.

If Allen Walker were not an exorcist, if she were just a normal human-turned-Noah, would things be different? Would she have joined their bizarre family and given them a chance, and taken a different path than the Fourteenth before her had? In time, would she have even grown to care for him? He pictures her carrying that child until birth, with enthusiasm rather than cold dread…

Perhaps things could have been different, but this is not a perfect world. These visions will never happen for one reason: Himself.

She hates him, despises him with all of her being—and with valid reason, because what he has done to her is classified by some as unforgivable. She will never love or want him; his fantasies are as pointless as they are implausible.

"Tyki, what are you doing? You almost burned through your whole cigarette."

The Noah of Pleasure is pulled out of his musings by Road, who leans over his hunched form with a perplexed expression. He glances down at his hand to see that she is correct—his lit cigarette is nearly burnt to the filter, though Tyki knows he has only taken two or three hits since lighting it.

"My attention must be elsewhere," he says softly, crushing the butt beneath his foot.

"Hmm…" Road hums, tapping her foot against the floor. "You've been smoking a lot less lately, Tyki. Why start again now? Is something wrong? Or are you just upset because your favorite exorcist got away?"

Tyki looks at the blank wall in front of him, completely disregarding the burn mark that is now on his carpet. "Nothing," he lies. "Nothing is wrong."

Yes, fantasies may be pointless, but these are all he has left of her now besides her old clothing and her scent. As long as he has these memories, and Joyd's unorthodox encouragement, he will not surrender.

He will not give up Allen Walker—not now, and not ever.

* * *

Kanda tries to get some rest once the pair gets off the train, but he finds that the idiot Moyashi refuses to allow him a moment of reprieve. Almost as soon as they get off, she is out and about searching through hell and high water to find them a ride. Within fifteen minutes, she finds a carriage that will take them as close to Headquarters as possible.

He tries to rest on the carriage, but ends up failing miserably. There's something about traveling in carriages that keeps the Japanese man from fully relaxing.

Or maybe it's just the fact that he is riding with the Moyashi, taking her back to what might be the absolute worst place for her to be right now— aside from being held hostage by the Noah. At any rate, she easily dozes off beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder as she falls into a heavy sleep.

Surprisingly, Kanda finds that he doesn't mind her sleeping on him. Normally he would throw a fit, but this time he lets it slide. She's warm enough, and the pressure on his side feels somewhat welcome after riding on a stiff train chair for hours on end.

Just as well, he doesn't really feel like fighting right now. Instead, the samurai watches the scenery pass them by with disinterested eyes. It's mostly just endless rows of trees upon trees—nothing particularly interesting to the Japanese man. He yawns in boredom, stiffening when the white-haired girl beside him sighs and fidgets against his body.

 _She must be a restless sleeper_ , he thinks, flushing when she presses her face into his neck. He nearly throws her off of him right then and there, but quickly thinks better of it. Kanda then reconsiders this choice when she releases a pained gasp.

"Moyashi?" he says, glancing down at her face. She is still fast asleep, but her face is contorted into a mask of agony. Her fingers, which moments ago had been loose and relaxed, have now curled themselves fiercely into the fabric of Kanda's exorcist coat.

 _Is she dreaming?_ With a shudder, Kanda recalls some of his own nightmares as of late; he doesn't know what goes on around him while he is in the midst of one, but he is willing to bet that it is nothing like this. Allen's expression would terrify a lesser man, and the samurai seriously considers rousing her.

"Is the young lady okay back there?" the driver calls back to them, looking over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the white-haired girl.

"Mind your own business!" Kanda snaps at him, returning his attention to Allen. "Wake up, Moyashi!" he implores her. "You're only dreaming! Snap out of it!"

Of course, doing so is always easier said than done.

* * *

It's happening again. It's the same place, with the rubble all around her that fills her lungs with particulates, causing her breath to go still in her chest. It _hurts_ ; her body hurts everywhere, but this is nothing compared to the cold feeling that runs through her veins when she sees it.

There, in the corner of her eye, a single butterfly flutters innocently in the air. Devoid of menace, the creature settles itself on her chest, its purple wings iridescent in the moon's light. But the pain doesn't stop, and it is only when more of the hapless violet creatures begin to swarm her that Allen realizes that they aren't butterflies at all.

_Tease._

And those aren't innocent speckles that decorate their wings; it's blood, scarlet and smelling as fresh as if the cannibal golems have just eaten a meal.

"What a shame," a teasing lilt observes, the disembodied voice accompanied by the crunch of collapsed rubble beneath footsteps.

Allen's blood freezes. _It can't be…_

"Have you given up already? I honestly expected better from you."

A few more steps, and the same Noah who has been tormenting her for the past several months enters her field of vision. He's dressed as he was during their first encounter in China, with his impeccable top hat and suit.

"No," she gasps, unable to form more words through the crushing pressure on her windpipe.

Tyki kneels beside her, his expression amused. "I must admit, I thought you would put up more of a fight, Allen. It seems as though you do not care for your precious friends as much as you claim, hm?"

_This can't be real._

"I should have done this correctly the first time."

Cries of agony rip their way out of Allen's throat as blinding pain envelops her chest. Her heart is burning, and shreds of pain pulse through her entire body.

And then it's gone. Nothing remains in her body but a vast emptiness, and all that she can see is the once-flawless image of Tyki, now contorted with sadistic ecstasy and tainted by blood. The object in his hand drips with red, throbbing in his palm in time with the beat of…

… _my heart._

"I told you before. You are _mine_ , girl, and so is your heart."

* * *

"Moyashi!"

Allen gasps when consciousness is suddenly thrust back upon her, her silver eyes flying open in fear. Almost on instinct, she curls into the nearest source of heat; it's a reflex that she's had since she was a child. The white-haired girl presses her own palm to her heart, seeking out the comforting rhythm of its beat. She sighs as she feels the familiar pumping in her chest, its heat almost searing when compared to how cold her dream had been.

The young woman is pulled from her steadily relaxing state by the shifting of someone else beside her. Dread washes over Allen as she realizes exactly who she is holding onto, and she curses her luck. She glances up—and stares straight into Kanda's dark eyes.

Though the horrifying vestiges of her nightmare still cling to the young woman, she is still able to find it within herself to be afraid of Kanda's wrath. She half-expects the samurai to throw her out of the carriage, but to her surprise, he doesn't. As a matter of fact, he doesn't even look angry—rather, he is staring at her with a very peculiar look on his face. If Allen didn't know him better, she would say that he appears concerned; and if she isn't mistaken, she thinks that there is even a tinge of pink on Kanda's cheeks. It must be a mistake, because there is _no way in hell_ that Kanda Yuu is _blushing_.

Then again, he _has_ been acting strange lately, so Allen supposes there's a first time for everything.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Kanda snaps at her, sounding more curious than enraged. He grabs her shoulders and shoves her off of him. He holds her at arm's length, his eyes wary as they scrutinize her face.

Allen shakes her head, pushing his arms off of her and sliding her fingers through unkempt white hair. She hopes that doing so makes her look more put-together, but the samurai doesn't appear to be buying her act.

"Nothing," she insists. "Everything's fine. Just a bad dream—nothing serious."

"Bullshit," Kanda immediately says. "You were moaning and thrashing in your sleep. Who the hell calls that _normal_?"

 _Was I really doing those things?_ This information unsettles the white-haired girl, but she offsets her discomfort by plastering a fake, gentle smile on her stricken face. "It's perfectly normal to have bad dreams, Bakanda. Why do you care, anyway? I was under the impression that you would just make fun of me for it."

"Tch. Idiot, if you're going to thrash around in your own room that's your business, but there are other people in this carriage who could do without it."

"Oh."

Kanda doesn't say anything else, though Allen can tell that he would like to. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, but no words come out; he has never been the best person to hold a conversation with, anyway, and the white-haired girl is inclined to believe that all he would utter are more insults and jibes.

The rest of the ride is awkward, to say the least, with the only sounds being the horse's clomping footsteps and the occasional grunt from the driver. Kanda seems to have given up on trying to speak to her, for he is now staring out the window with an expression not dissimilar to someone being disemboweled with a fork. The white-haired girl also stares out the window, but she casts occasional glances in the samurai's direction. He may deny offering her any support, but she had definitely seen the spark of worry in his dull eyes. In a subtle way, he _does_ seem to care for her well-being—and though he refuses to admit such sensitivity to anyone, perhaps even himself, Allen knows that it is there.

"We're here, sir," the driver says from up front, distracting Kanda from the scenery outside.

"The Order will pay you in a day or two," Kanda tells him brusquely, exiting the carriage without another word.

"Thank you for the ride, sir," Allen tells the man. "We really appreciate it—and I apologize for his behavior. He can be quite…intense," she euphemized.

The older man smiles at her. "It's no problem. You just take care of yourself, Miss."

The white-haired girl nods, a kind smile on her face. She stretches her limbs as she exits the carriage, and nearly flinches at the sound of the driver cracking the whip and the horse's subsequent whinny.

As the carriage rolls away into the distance, both exorcists glance skywards. A soft smile overtakes the young woman's features as she stares up at the place she has grown to call home. It looks very dark from where they are, as menacing as it had been Allen's first time here. While Kanda may see her as being foolish for going back, given the circumstances, she knows that nothing short of death will stop her from going back to the Order—even if everyone at Central is against her.

"I'm finally home," she whispers to no one in particular. She turns to the Japanese man standing beside her, grinning at his unbearably bored expression. "Well, let's go find the elevator."

"We can't," Kanda tells her matter-of-factly. "The elevator's been broken for two months, and no one's gotten around to fixing it yet, what with the whole Central fiasco. There are guards posted at the front gates, and the only way to get to them is by climbing."

"What? I already did that my first time here! Now I have to do it again?" Allen complains. She sighs, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "Fine then. Let's go."

* * *

The journey upwards takes much longer than Allen had previously thought, and is ten times as difficult as it had been the first time. After only twenty minutes of climbing, the white-haired girl is already winded, and the inhuman grip of her clawed arm is the only thing keeping her from sliding off of the massive rocks and falling to her death.

"What's taking you so long?" Kanda quips from above her; he is already perched on the rock atop hers, staring down at her struggling form with arms crossed. "You're even using your Innocence."

"Fighting is one thing, but climbing this much after not having practiced for a while is just a bit hard!" Allen yells back at him, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The Japanese man sighs, but bends down and reaches out his hand. "Here."

The young woman simply stares at it for a moment, dubious on whether or not he is joking. After she gauges that yes, he is actually offering to help her, Allen reaches out with her human hand and allows Kanda to pull her up to his level.

"Thank you, Kanda," she says warmly.

"Tch."

They continue on in this manner for the rest of the climb, with Kanda periodically helping her up the trickier ledges when he notices her struggling. They come to a particularly steep one, and Allen nearly makes it to the top by herself. Satisfaction surges through her as she reaches for the top, knowing that they are almost there—

And her hand slips. Just barely, but she slides down a few inches, her Innocence leaving several long gashes in the stone.

"Moyashi!" she hears Kanda yell from above her.

"I'm fine!" she calls back, silently apologizing to the man. From his perspective, it probably looks like she fell. "Just give me a second—"

She is cut off midsentence when she feels someone grab the back of her shirt. In the next second she finds herself on her knees, splayed out on solid ground.

"What the—?" She glances up to see the samurai staring down at her, and as she looks around she realizes that he had pulled her up the rest of the way. Annoyed, she scoffs at the man's action. "You know, I could have gotten up by myself. You shouldn't worry about me, Kanda. If anything happens, you can yell at me all you want later."

"That isn't what I—never mind," he says, turning away from her.

"Huh? Wait up, Bakanda!"

The rest of the way is on relatively flat ground, and the entire time, Allen is on edge. She cannot help but wonder what will happen to her when she gets to the gate—will the guards assume that she is an enemy in disguise, as Kanda had? Or worse, will they assume that she herself is the enemy? Will the men from Central start questioning her immediately? She doesn't really feel up to being interrogated, especially after that disconcerting dream she had in the carriage.

Another thought occurs to her as well. Will they allow her to speak with Master Cross? Granted, the infamous General isn't her favorite person in the world, but at least he knows how to handle the higher-ups in the Order.

**Find Cross as soon as you can, Allen, and don't let anyone overhear you.**

_Wait, what? Why?_

**Just talk to him, Allen. I can't say anything else right now. You have to act natural.**

… _Okay_.

As her and Kanda climb over the final ledge, the white-haired girl is treated to a sight she hasn't seen in quite a while: the looming gates of the Black Order Headquarters, as tall and imposing as they had been since the last time she had been here.

However, there is one key difference. Instead of being greeted by the large, eccentric sight of the Gatekeeper, Allen and Kanda come face-to-face with two human guards as well.

Upon seeing the pair, one of the guards holds out a hand. "Stop," he commands them. "State your names."

"Kanda Yuu," the samurai says. "Reporting back from my mission."

"And who's that behind you?" the other man says, straining his neck to see the young woman.

Allen takes a deep breath, and steps out of Kanda's shadow.

"I'm Allen Walker."

All is silent for a moment, but the white-haired girl tenses when the men instantly revert to an offensive posture.

"Wait!" Allen cries, placing her hands in front of her body. Kanda goes rigid as well, but takes a noticeable step closer to the young woman. Allen gapes at him; is he really going to try to protect her?

"What are you doing here?" the first guard asks.

"What do you think she's doing here, you moron?" Kanda spits at him, his hand instinctively reaching for Mugen. "She's an exorcist."

"We've received orders from Inspector Leverrier to treat her as a person of interest," the second guard informs them, returning to his previous position. "Forgive me if my associate seemed rude, but we're only following orders."

"Indeed," a masculine voice comes on over the speakers, underlain by the shocked murmurs of numerous men. "Is that really you, Allen Walker?"

The white-haired girl glares in every direction, put off by the man's question. "Yes. Who else would it be?"

"…I see. And have you returned as an ally of the Black Order?"

"I was never not an ally," she says, defending herself from the unknown man's accusation. "If you would let us in, I can prove it."

"…Very well. Acker, Friedrich, have the Gatekeeper prove their identity, and then let them in."

The first guard steps forward, grabbing Allen's arm in a too-tight grip.

"Hey!" she objects, but the man ignores her protest.

"Let go," Kanda says menacingly, his eyes staring daggers at the guard.

Hesitantly, the man does as Kanda says, and allows the two exorcists to walk over to the Gatekeeper unassisted.

A moment later, the gates swing open, and Allen has her first glimpse of the Order in what seems like forever. The white-haired girl grins broadly, despite being manhandled a few moments ago. She disregards the adversity that she knows she will face once inside, certain that she can handle it.

She's come this far, hasn't she?

But as soon as she takes one step forward, Allen sways on her feet. She stumbles a bit, raising her hand to her forehead as a dizzy spell runs through her. Kanda stops when he sees her fumble, his brows furrowing as he watches her try to regain her balance.

"What is it?" he asks her, turning back around to face her.

Allen shakes her head, suddenly feeling nauseous as her feet begin to blur against the backdrop of the ground. "I'm…I'm not sure," she tells him, lightheadedness forcing her to take a step backwards. She closes her eyes, willing her mind to block out the sensation. "I'm feeling a little…dizzy…"

The moment her legs give out, she hears a loud cry of " _Moyashi_ ," and watches with detached eyes as Kanda's blurred form rushes forward.

She never does feel him catch her; she is already unconscious by the time he does.

* * *

Allen's first coherent thought is that the room is far too bright. White light burns through her closed eyelids, filling the young woman with a sudden urge to groan. She wouldn't normally complain about such things, but right now her head is aching fit to burst. Her throat is parched as well; a drink of water sounds heavenly right about now, as does an entire platter of food—her stomach feels as though it's eating itself.

However, the white-haired girl's extreme discomfort is shoved to the wayside as soon as she figures out where she is. Without a doubt, she knows she is in the Order's medical wing; she would know this place anywhere.

Before she can stop them, happy tears fill her eyes, and for a moment she is almost able to pretend that the events of these past few months have been nothing but a terrible dream.

Unfortunately, reality soon brings her crashing back down to earth.

 _What happened to me?_ She kicks the blankets off of her, noting that no one has bothered to change her out of the clothes she and Kanda had stolen at the train station. _Speaking of Kanda, where is he? I must not have been out for that long, if I'm still wearing these clothes, and he seemed to be wary of other people going near me…he was the one who caught me_ …

"Kanda?" When she receives no answer, Allen scratches her head, releasing a large yawn as she does so.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Walker," a menacing voice drawls, the sound emanating from her right side.

The white-haired girl nearly jumps out of her skin when she catches sight of the man sitting in the corner of the room, an opened book sitting innocently on his lap. He stares at her with a friendly smile that radiates the opposite impression of kindness. Rather, it makes him look more akin to a predator.

"It's just me here," the man continues. "Kanda Yuu is currently talking to my subordinates and giving a report on his mission."

Allen narrows her eyes at the man; she instantly distrusts him. Something about his twisted face, coupled with the creepy mustache above his lip, makes her stomach churn with unease. Then again, that might be the nausea from earlier reappearing. "You mean you're questioning him?" she asks. "Why?"

"It's nothing to worry yourself about. Central has been very…concerned about your disappearance, and has preoccupied itself with finding you. That's all. It's not every day a disciple goes missing and vanishes into the realm of the Noah." The man closes his book and stands up, straightening his coat with posh rigidity. "But I'm digressing. My name is Malcolm C. Leverrier, and I am an Inspector for Central. I've been assigned to your case and have the duty of making sure you return safely. Speaking of which, here you are."

From beneath his chair, Leverrier pulls out a large, flat box, sliding off the top to reveal a brand new exorcist coat inside.

"A new exorcist uniform. I correctly guessed that you would need a new one, and received your measurements from one Johnny Gill. There is no need to thank me."

He hands her the box, and the young woman takes it with some trepidation. Even so, she forces a smile to her face. "Thank you anyway, Inspector Leverrier. I'm glad you thought of my return so fondly. But if you wouldn't mind, can I have a moment for myself so I can change? I would like to have some privacy."

Even with a smile, the stiff expression on Leverrier's face remains unchanged. He almost looks angry when he nods at her. "Of course, Miss Walker. Take all the time you need."

With that, Leverrier strides out of the medical wing. Allen, on the other hand, waits all of thirty seconds after he leaves in order to make a break for it. She hesitates at first, but decides to take the new coat with her.

The white-haired girl glances both ways before leaving the room, making sure that no one sees her. She dashes down the hallways as fast as she can, searching for the one place she had always gone for information: Komui's office.

Allen finds the scientist's office in record time, looking every which way before knocking on his door. Almost immediately, the door cracks open, and through the small space the young woman can see a tentative eye poking out. She smiles broadly when it glances at her, and the eye widens as the man behind the door takes in her appearance.

"Allen!" Komui's familiar sing-song voice exclaims, and he opens the door wider. "Come in!"

When she does, Allen watches in confusion as the Chinese man refastens several odd-looking locks. No doubt he had installed them because of Central; the young woman still shivers thinking about the man who calls himself Leverrier.

"What are you doing here, Allen? When did you wake up? Does Leverrier know you're here?" The purple-haired man barely gives her a moment's reprieve before bombarding her with questions.

The young woman shakes her head. "Leverrier was there when I woke up. He gave me this uniform, so when he left in order for me to change I snuck out of the medical wing. Listen, Komui, I'm sorry if I seem rude—I know I just got back and everyone's probably wondering what happened—but I need to know where my Master is. I have to talk to him."

"Try looking around before you speak, idiot apprentice."

The white-haired girl whips around only to see the General of her nightmares; Cross Marian smirks at her from where he stands in the corner, smoking a cigarette seemingly without a care in the world.

"Master!" Allen exclaims, dumbfounded by the fact that the red-haired man is actually _here_. "What's going on? Why are you here? Why…" _Why did you never try to find me?_

"That's too many questions all at once," Cross says, scratching the back of his head. "Let's talk in my room. I already checked it for bugs, so we should have some privacy." He breezes past her on his way to the door, only stopping to glare at the box she holds in her hands. "That's Leverrier's uniform, right?"

Allen nods, bewildered by Cross's disgusted expression.

"Leave it here," he tells her. "I've saved your old one for you. You left it here when you disappeared."

The young woman frowns, but does as Cross says, following him out of the room. She waves goodbye to Komui, shooting him a kind smile.

Though the Chinese man returns it, there remains a shadow of doubt behind his eyes—one that the white-haired girl acutely feels.

_Just what is going on here?_


	22. A Plethora of Secrets

The room Cross takes her to is familiar. Just as she remembers from his old room at the Order, it's full of empty bottles of booze, some of them cloudy and painted with dust, some of them shiny and reflective in the scant candlelight. The bed is unmade in typical Cross fashion, and the wallpaper looks as though it should be torn down and redone. No pictures or adornments line the walls; the only decorations that Allen can see are the luscious tapestries that hang at the top of the wall. These, too, look old and untouched, coated with thick layers of coagulated dust. Indeed, there is nothing here that indicates anything is amiss—except for one simple fact.

The white-haired girl has never been here in her life.

"Master…this is a different room, isn't it?" she asks. "I mean, it looks very similar to your old one, but it's not. I've never been in this part of Headquarters before. Why did you bring me here?"

Cross grins smugly, but nods at the young woman. "It is. Nice catch—I was thinking that you wouldn't have known, seeing as how I never actually let you in my room. I was already gone by the time you got here."

Allen blushes, scratching the back of her head nervously. "Yeah, well, uh…I did some searching and sort of…found your old room."

"Hm. Well, in any case, I stayed in my original room when I first got here, but after Central came I made some changes. I have privacy in this room, thanks to my use of Grave of Maria to shield it from intruders. It's probably overkill, seeing as hardly anyone comes back here, but I prefer to be safe than sorry."

Allen goes slack-jawed at the red-haired man's audacity. "But Master, Central will be furious with you if they find out that you used your anti-Akuma weapon to hide from them!"

"And who's going to tell them?" Cross sends her a look that makes a cold sweat break out on her forehead.

"Well, not me, but…"

"Then what do I care? Besides, these idiots who claim to work for God wouldn't know treachery if it knocked on the front door of the building. You should know that by now, idiot apprentice."

The white-haired girl glances down at the ratty old carpet, her silver eyes downcast and a heavy weight settling in her stomach. She knows he is right, but that doesn't make how Leverrier and those guards acted around her any less poignant or painful. She _does_ consider the Order to be her home, after all, and being treated as a potential criminal stings in a way she cannot put into words. "…Yeah."

An awkward silence fills the air, permeating all corners of the room until Cross breaks the silence. "Sit down," he tells her, absentmindedly lighting a cigarette. "It's time we had a talk, don't you think?"

Despite her nerves, Allen does as he says. She is not overly eager to have a drawn-out conversation with her mentor for obvious reasons, but she is curious as to why Neah had wanted her to speak with him. She cannot begin to venture a guess, but she wants to know regardless; if the Fourteenth says that it's important…well, she cannot think of a reason why he would lie about such a thing. She is still edgy, still uncertain as to whether or not she can fully trust the Noah, but at least he doesn't seem as though he wishes her harm. If he had, she would still be on the Ark.

…Right? It's not as though he had known that the Order would be so wary of her. This is just a simple coincidence, a case of the Black Order being overly paranoid as they often are…

Allen waits patiently—and a bit angrily—as Cross pours himself a glass of aged Scottish whiskey, swishing the amber liquor a few times before taking a tentative sip. He seems to be taking his time, as though he hasn't another care in the world besides judging the taste of his booze.

"Hmm," he moans under his breath. "I wish I had wine. Tim," he says to the golem hovering beside his head, "make sure that you automatically delete everything that is said in this room, okay? We don't want any of those idiots from Central to hear anything that goes on in here."

The golden golem flutters its wings in affirmation, settling down atop the older man's head.

"So," Cross says, this time addressing the white-haired girl, "you've begun to notice it, haven't you?"

At first, Allen has no idea what he's talking about, and is more than a little confused. "Noticed what?" _What exactly is he getting at?_

Cross sighs, taking another long sip of his scotch. "Don't play dumb, idiot apprentice—or I guess I should say don't _be_ dumb. You must have noticed how you're changing. You wouldn't have made it off the Ark unless the process had already started. So tell me, Allen—have you begun to be taken over by the Fourteenth's memories yet?"

A cold feeling washes over her at Cross's question, and Allen finds herself at more than a loss for words. She is practically at a loss for thought—the one idea that keeps replaying in her mind with unrelenting vigor is the fact that Cross _knows._

_But how? How could he possibly know that I'm the Fourteenth? I had no idea that anyone else even knew about the Fourteenth's existence—he never talked about it. Hell, I didn't even know that there was a Fourteenth until I met Neah, and I'm supposed to be his vessel…_

**Just listen to him, Allen. He can explain some things better than I.**

The first step, she reasons, should be to answer him. "I…I…" The young woman stutters, refusing to meet her mentor's eye. "…How did you know? Is it…is it something I did?"

The red-haired man scoffs, blowing the smoke from his cigarette into a huge opaque cloud. Allen coughs lightly as the cloud smothers her face.

"I know much more than you give me credit for, idiot apprentice—and so does Central, if you haven't noticed. You have to be more careful from now on about what you say and whom you say it to. That means that the only person you should talk to about this is _me_ —not Komui, not Lenalee, not the future Bookman, and especially not Tiedoll's apprentice."

"You mean Kanda?"

Cross nods. "Especially him—you know how volatile he gets when provoked. Right now he's probably trying to tear out a guard's throat."

Allen grimaces at the mental image that statement provokes, hoping fervently for Kanda's sake that he retains a calm demeanor.

"Do you understand, Allen?"

She nods, and Cross returns the gesture. "Good. Now I suppose I should fill you in on my role in the Fourteenth's predicament. I should tell you right now not to make any judgments until I've finished. First of all, have you explicitly regained any of the Fourteenth's old memories?"

The white-haired girl shakes her head. "No…I can feel him there, though—and I can hear him. Sometimes I can even see him when I fall asleep, and in my reflection in a mirror. He told me what I needed to do to escape the Ark."

"So you saw his room?"

"…Yes."

"That's it?"

"Well…not exactly. He told me…about the Fifteenth. He told me about her…and how she was my grandmother. I know that they tried to kill the Noah and failed, and that she died and took Joyd out with her."

"…I see. So you know of her and the Third's relationship."

The young woman grants him a nod, and Cross sighs dramatically. "I should have known he would leave other things out. Such a pain, that one. Well then, allow me to fill you in. This may come as a shock to you, but I was a young man once—a teenager, specifically. Thirty-eight years ago, I was an exorcist—a relatively new one, seeing as I was not even eighteen. And when I was a teenager, living at the Order Headquarters and going on periodic missions, I was good friends with another boy who often went on missions with me."

Allen is appalled by his last statement, and cannot help but to interject. "You had friends, Master?" In all honesty, such a concept is foreign to the young woman. The closest "friends" she had ever seen around Cross were the multitudes of women who hung off of him at the bars and taverns they frequented during her training.

An annoyed look comes over the General's face, but he merely grunts at her. "Yes, I did. We were very good friends, actually—so much so that I shirked my responsibilities as an agent of the Order so I could search for him when he went missing. You may think I was always a careless man who defied the authority of the Order, but that wasn't always the case. Going after my friend without telling anyone where I was going was not an easy decision to make, but I made it." At this point, Cross takes a large gulp of scotch, draining the glass completely before leaning back against the sofa. He is silent for so long that Allen begins to think that he has fallen asleep, so she ventures a question.

"Your friend…what happened to him?"

Contrary to what the white-haired girl thought he would do, Cross smiles lazily at her question and lights another cigarette. "Well, I'll put it simply. The short story is that he ran away with nothing but the clothes on his back. He left his golem behind with me—secretly, I think he wanted me to find him. The point is that he ran away from the Order, knowing that he would no longer be accepted by the Vatican if they knew what he was."

Cross takes another drag, casting Allen a sideways glance that speaks volumes about the truth of what he is saying. "My friend became a Noah, Allen—and his name was Neah Walker."

Shock seems to freeze her limbs the instant Neah's name leaves Cross's lips, but she tries to reel in her expression. Unsurprisingly, her first instinct is to deny such a thing. "You…" she begins, nearly unable to go on. "You _knew_ the Fourteenth? He was an exorcist? How—how is that possible? And why—why wouldn't you _tell me_?"

"I told you not to make any judgments before I finished my story, didn't I?" Cross reminds her, sounding almost impassive when compared to the white-haired girl's irate tone.

Allen wisely holds her tongue, keeping her from spewing profanities at the General; she takes deep breaths to calm herself. Still, the fact that _Cross knows Neah_ rings incessantly in her head, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else—that is, until the red-haired man resumes speaking.

"Now then, where was I? Ah, yes. I followed Neah by using the golem he had left with me, none other than Timcanpy. The little golem was made by Neah himself, and was wired to find him wherever he went. By using him, I soon found Neah in a small town in Germany.

"Tim led me all the way to a small house; it was a pretty quaint place, though I will say the coloring left much to be desired. Something didn't sit right with me when I found it, but I went and knocked on the door anyway. I felt that I had to know where he had gone, and why. Imagine my surprise when no one answered—I ended up simply breaking down the door. I ran inside, and almost had an aneurism when I found Neah sitting in the living room with a woman, a baby, and a young man who looked remarkably like him. Can you guess who those three people were, Allen?"

The white-haired considers the question for a mere second before responding; she had already known the answer. "Ezra and her child…and Mana," she whispers, clenching her fists tightly.

Cross inclines his head solemnly. "That's right. I was more than shocked when I walked in and saw Neah in his Noah form, as well as Ezra. As you can probably guess, I attacked them—and nearly got killed in the process. Ezra was angry that I attacked while she was holding her baby, but after Neah told her and Mana who I was, the two of them spared me.

"It was then that Neah explained everything that had happened—how he had noticed his transformation into a Noah, how this had then led him to find Ezra, and how they had both joined the Clan of Noah with the intent to destroy it once and for all. He explained the family dynamic of the Noah, and told me about the Third's obsession with the Fifteenth." Cross sighs, leaning backwards into the sofa. "He never did tell me who that child's father was, though I did ask several times if it was his. He never responded, and I never found out, seeing as how he made me swear to only come by the house after dark."

"…And then what?" Allen asks, her leg shaking with nerves. "What happened after that?"

Cross sighs, flicking the ash from his cigarette rudely onto the carpet. "Then I stayed close by, in an inn that allowed me to keep close watch over them in case something were to happen. I visited the house every night, sitting in while Neah, Ezra, and Mana discussed the plan to take down the Earl. Before I knew it, a few years had passed, and the two of them now had enough information on the lore of the Noah to go through with the plan of extermination that would end the war. I remember the night before quite clearly…we were all sitting at the dining table, and Neah and Ezra were discussing how best to separate the Noah in order to weaken their defenses.

"By this point, Ezra's child had become a little girl—she couldn't have been more than four. She wandered into the room and demanded to know why her mother had gray skin…it was then that I realized that she was a full human—she knew nothing of what Ezra was, nor of the existence of the Clan of Noah. She was innocent. And this…is where I began to doubt myself and their plan. I can't explain it, but that little girl's innocence warned me that something terrible was going to happen. Call it what you will, but I was still a fool, and said nothing."

"That little girl…she was my mother, wasn't she?"

A nod is all she receives from the red-haired General.

Allen swallows the lump in her throat, taking in a shaky breath as she tries to regain her bearings. "Go on."

"When the next day came, I stayed away as I had promised, cooped up in the inn for what Neah and Ezra told me was my safety. I don't know where Mana was—probably in a safe place that Neah had set aside for him. Either way, everything seemed normal, and I began to wonder if I should go over to Ezra's house to see if they had succeeded. Neah told me that I could check in by midnight, as that would be when their plan would end. However…" Here, Cross's eyes take on a glassy sheen, one that makes him seem as far away as though he is reliving what had happened. Allen is practically riveted to her seat, her muscles tense as she awaits what will be the ultimate climax of this story.

"What happened?" she asks, her tone impatient.

"Neah and Mana came to see me. Mana had always stayed close to his brother, despite the fact that Neah was a Noah. I could never understand it, but I respected him for it. I didn't know him well, so I never would have thought anything was amiss. Yet that day, Neah and Mana burst into my room looking like they'd seen the Devil himself. Neah told me that they had to run, and that I should too. Their plan had failed; Ezra was dead, and the Earl would be coming after us. He said nothing about Ezra's daughter, but he did tell me something else.

"He asked Mana to wait outside for a moment, and what he told me then changed the course of my life forever."

Allen swallows dryly. "What was it?"

"That I should keep an eye on his brother. That he—Neah—was going to die, and that his next vessel would appear before Mana. He told me that Tim would help me, that he would tell me where to go to find him if he were ever lost. That was all—I tried to ask him what the hell he was talking about, but he never had time to answer. The Earl attacked the inn right then."

"He found you?" The young woman could hardly believe her ears—Cross had faced the Maker of Akuma and _lived_? Surely such a feat would be impossible at his age…then again, she's around the same age he had been back then, and she has already faced the Earl multiple times.

"Yes, and he very nearly killed me. If it weren't for Neah, both Mana and I would never have escaped. He fought the Earl and told Mana and I to run. I practically had to drag the fool away—he wanted to stay behind with his brother. As soon as we managed to escape the chaos, Mana ditched me. I tried in vain to search for him before I remembered what Neah had said about Tim—he programmed the golem to find Mana, and entrusted me to watch over him. So I did.

"For nineteen years, I followed Mana wherever he went, and several times I nearly approached him. He seemed to be slipping further into despair, and he began to do circus acts for money. The only thing that kept me from going over to him and knocking some sense into his thick head was my promise to Neah that I would watch over him. If I went up to him, I know he would have run from me."

This information is almost too much to comprehend; Allen tries in vain to sort it out in her head, but finds herself at a loss. She never would have guessed any of this—it all seems so far away from her, so detached from her reality that she can hardly believe that it all happened. "…What happened nineteen years later?" she asks quietly, doing the math in her head and feeling an accompanying swirl of dread. _It can't be…_

Cross fills his glass with more scotch, and downs the drink in one gulp. "Mana found her again, in London. It could be fate or some stupid nonsense like that, but the point is that he found Ezra's daughter—your mother—as the two of them were walking down the street. And…she was already pregnant when he did."

Allen's jaw falls open. "He— _how_? That's…impossible…"

"How so?" Cross asks her. "She must have escaped somehow, otherwise you wouldn't have been born, but even I don't know how. All I know is that she got away—and ended up pregnant out of wedlock. As for your father…well, I suppose Mana filled that role. He stayed with Jane until the end of her pregnancy."

"Jane," Allen whispers, testing the name on her tongue. "My mother…Mana knew my mother…"

Cross nods in affirmation. "He did. He took care of her with what little money he made off of his circus acts. He knew who she was—and who couldn't? With that red hair and silver eyes, not to mention Ezra's face, it was impossible not to recognize her. If Mana were smarter, he would have known that staying with her would only lead to tragedy—and so it did."

The white-haired girl clenches her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut against the horrors she knows Cross is about to dump on her.

"One night, as I watched their home from the inn across the street, I saw a woman stumble up the porch steps. She nearly tripped over her own feet, and when Mana ran outside to catch her, I realized why. It was Jane, and she was drunk nearly out of her mind. Her dress and legs were soaked red with blood, and her baby bump was almost gone—she had left the day before as heavily pregnant. She must have gone into labor while out of the house and wasn't able to contact Mana. He demanded to know what she had done, but she just kept repeating the same thing. _'I got rid of it. I couldn't do it, Mana. It was just like her._ '"

Upon seeing the pained look on Allen's face, Cross glances away.

"It took me many years, until I met you, to realize that Jane had been comparing you to Ezra. She must have remembered the stigmata on her mother's forehead when she saw the cross on your hand, and seen it as a curse. That girl had far too much baggage to live a normal life."

A single tear runs down Allen's face; she tries desperately to hold in her sobs. "W-what happened to her after she…abandoned me?"

"…She died. The blood must have been from birth complications…she died that night in Mana's arms, sitting on the front porch of her own home. There was nothing I could have done, though at the time I wanted to. And after that, after her funeral…Mana left again. He went right back to doing his shows as a traveling clown, only now he seemed even more broken than before. I can imagine what he was going through—he lost the only two connections he had left to his dead brother.

"And then he found you. He must have known who you were on sight—I know I did. With that face and red hair, how could we not recognize you? That's when I realized the meaning behind Neah's last words to me—that _you_ were intended to be the Fourteenth. I took you under my wing as soon as I could."

"…And here we are," the white-haired girl finishes.

"Here we are."

Time stands still for a few moments as Allen processes the details of Cross's story. It's strange and impossible, horrifying and _absolutely untrue_ …it has to be. How can any of it be true? Neah was an exorcist…Mana and her grandmother were accomplices…and her own mother tried to get rid of her for having Innocence…

It's too much to handle all at once, and Allen cannot understand the purpose of asking her to only make judgments at the end of the story—because right now, she has never been more furious with Cross in all of her life.

"How…" she whispers, her voice hitching, "How could you…?"

Cross closes his eyes, craning his head downwards as if knowing what is coming.

Sure enough, Allen explodes.

" _How could you have kept all of this from me?"_ she shouts, shooting to her feet and glaring down at the red-haired man. "You're supposed to be my _mentor_! I trusted you with my life! Everything I've done for these past few months has been to find _you_ , and now you're telling me that you just sat back and _watched everyone die_? Mana, my mother, even Ezra and Neah! You did _nothing_. I can't even believe that I was worried—and now that you're finally back, you dump all of this on me? _Look at me_!"

Cross stares up at the shaking girl, watching with cold eyes as tears flow down her cheeks. Her chest is heaving with emotion, and her hands are shaking with unreleased rage.

"Damn you," she says breathlessly, almost at a loss for words. "Why would you tell me all of this? It _hurts_ …after everything…all that Mana did for me…was that all a lie? Did he ever truly care for me, or was it only because of Neah? My own mother didn't even want me…" Her silver eyes find Cross's, and her desperation makes her feel as though she is suffocating. " _Tell me_ , Cross! Say _something_. Did he ever care about me? Did _you_?"

The red-haired man opens his mouth to answer her, but she silences him with a derisive scoff.

"Who am I kidding?" she sobs, frantically brushing the tears off of her face. Even as she does, more soon take their place, and she ends up merely rubbing her cheeks raw. "Everything in my life has been a lie. It _hurts_ ," she gasps out, a wave of pain striking her as suddenly as an earthquake. "It _hurts_."

She keeps repeating this line over and over again, until Cross finally seems to realize that her cries of pain are real and not a product of her emotional anguish. He stands up abruptly, staring into her face with a look of concern.

"Allen?" he asks, grabbing her forearm. "What's happening?"

The white-haired girl is hyperventilating, her salty tears choking her as a wave of nausea hits her full-force.

Before she can release a cry of warning, she falls to her knees and vomits onto the carpet.

"Allen!"

She can barely hear Cross through the pain in her stomach, but she moans pathetically into her hands. She feels movement beside her, and glances out of the corner of her eye to see Cross kneeling next to her slumped form.

"What's wrong with you?" he demands, and unsurprisingly, she doesn't answer.

Instead, another bout of nausea seizes her, and Cross manages to pull her hair away from her face just in time to avoid her vomiting on the white locks. Even after her stomach has been emptied, Allen continues to dry heave, and the foul taste in her mouth is enough to make her want to throw up one more time.

She gasps in relief, finally able to catch her breath as she feels her stomach start to settle down. Cross is still holding her hair back, and the young woman feels him tense up behind her.

"Allen…" he says in a dangerous voice. The white-haired girl can feel his fingers probing at her neck. "What are these?"

Just as he had moments before, Allen tenses, horror overtaking her as she realizes what he's talking about.

_The marks Tyki left on me…they're still there…_

What should she say? Should she simply deny that she knows where they came from? Say that she fell and hurt herself by accident? Would Cross believe such a lie? Probably not, she reasons. He's a ladies' man; he would know that she is lying.

"I…" Nothing else leaves her lips; she cannot find any passable excuse that would appease the red-haired man.

"Allen, _where did you get these marks_?" he asks again, anger evident in his voice.

She squeezes her eyes shut, knowing that his eyes are on her face. Tears seep out from beneath her eyelids, scorching her face with their raw heat. When she still says nothing, Cross decides to take matters into his own hands. He scoops her into his arms, lifting her bridal style as he barges out of the room.

Allen cries out in alarm as air _whooshes_ past them, surprised that the General can still go this fast while carrying another person.

"Where are you taking me?" she asks breathlessly, holding onto Cross's coat for dear life. She desperately tries to hold in her vomit; a third wave of nausea slams over her as soon as the pair leaves the room.

"Where do you think?" Cross asks her derisively. "I'm taking you to see the Head Nurse."

Allen's blood runs cold. "What? No, I—"

"Why not?" he asks. "With the way you're acting, I'm not inclined to believe anything you say. Now shut up."

* * *

"What's the meaning of this, Cross? Why are you terrorizing your apprentice? Can't you just leave the poor girl alone?"

The Head Nurse thoroughly chastises the General, who merely glares at the ceiling; however, he refuses to budge or give in to her demand to leave the ward.

"You didn't see what I saw. Just look at her—she was vomiting and sobbing all over herself five minutes ago!"

Allen sits on the cot a few feet away from the arguing pair, huddled into a tight ball with her arms wrapped around her knees. She refuses to meet the eyes of either her mentor or the kind nurse, and finally, the older woman seems to realize that Cross has a point; she goes over to the white-haired girl tentatively, careful not to startle her.

In a gentle voice, the Head Nurse implores the young woman to tell her what's wrong. "How are you feeling, Allen-chan? You seem very sick. Is something wrong that I can help you with?"

 _I feel disgusting, like I've been used and tossed aside. Also, I keep having nightmares about the man who raped me too many times to count. And I just learned that my entire life has been completely structured for me. I feel like nothing. I've felt like this for months, and it doesn't seem to be getting any better. Can you fix that?_ She already knows that the answer to these questions is no, so she merely shakes her head at the nurse's questions.

"Look at her neck," Cross grumbles, his voice laced with disgust.

Before Allen can stop her, the nurse pulls her hair away from her neck.

" _No!"_ Allen grabs the woman's hands, trying in vain to stop her from seeing the shameful marks—the evidence of her objectification.

But it's too late, and she can see it in the older woman's horrified eyes. "Allen-chan…" the nurse breathes. She gapes at the white-haired girl for a moment, her expression beyond distressed. "I…I know you don't want to talk about whatever happened to you, so I won't force you. But…can you please lie down for me?"

Paranoid eyes scrutinize the other woman. "…Why?"

"Just so I can check the state of your body. I won't do anything you aren't comfortable with, and I won't ask you to remove your clothes."

The white-haired girl hesitantly does as the nurse says, and she feels the full weight of her sore and fatigued body as she stretches out on the cot. The older woman feels her body, primarily her abdomen, pushing against the skin in several different locations. It's uncomfortable, but not unbearable; Allen puts up with it, though she is more than embarrassed that Cross is still watching from across the room. The Head Nurse asks questions intermittently, ones that Allen answers in one or two words.

"Have you been feeling any repeated bouts of nausea?"

"Only recently."

"Any dizziness and fatigue?"

"…Yes."

The older woman goes still and silent for a moment as she presses on a certain part of Allen's lower abdomen.

"Allen-chan…have you noticed any unusual changes in your body lately?"

At first, the young woman is confused by the nurse's question. Unusual changes in her body…apart from her turning into a Noah, or being used by Tyki Mikk for his personal pleasure? She cannot think of anything else…

And then, with horrifying clarity, everything falls into place.

 _No_ , she thinks, panic overtaking her. _No, no, no, no, no, no! It can't be…I can't be…_

Yet as much as she tries to deny it, Allen cannot disregard one very obvious fact: she hasn't had her monthly cycle for over three months now. It had been so easy to ignore while locked in her lavish prison, with her mind on nothing else except the prospect of escape…still, Allen cannot comprehend how she had managed to overlook such a clear sign.

_I can't be…not again!_

" _No_ ," she gasps aloud, sitting up abruptly and startling the nurse. "No, no, no! I—I _can't_!" She is shaking profusely, her limbs apparently unable to obey her mind when she tells them to stop moving.

"Calm down, Allen-chan!" the older woman says. "Please!" She holds the white-haired girl's shoulders firmly, her soft gaze compelling cooperation. "You're going to be fine. We'll take care of you. I won't tell anyone—"

" _No_! You don't understand!" she yells, completely disregarding her rude behavior. " _I can't be! I can't be pregnant_!"

But denying it, no matter how vehemently she tries, does not make it untrue.

* * *

Kanda is fuming as he marches down the hallway, feeling damn near murderous after his interrogation with those idiot guards. Apparently, finding the Moyashi makes him an immediate suspect, despite the fact that doing so is exactly what they had been trying to do for months. Just because _they_ sucked at their jobs doesn't mean he should be the one on trial. He supposes that Central is far from trusting him, however. He shouldn't be surprised that this happened; so far, they have proven themselves to be nothing but nuisances inserting themselves into everyone's business.

_Particularly the Moyashi's…_

The samurai pauses as he hears something issuing from a room down the hall. It's coming from the medical wing, and Kanda places the noise as…crying? No, not crying; this is outright sobbing. The woman sounds as distressed as if she had been told her entire family is dead.

He tells himself that he shouldn't be listening to this; it's none of his business. He starts to walk away…but is immediately pulled back by the sound of someone trying to calm the crying girl.

" _It's okay, Allen-chan_ ," he hears the Head Nurse say in a soothing voice. " _You're going to be fine. I won't let Central do anything to you_."

 _So the Moyashi's awake? And she's…crying_? He cannot help it; Kanda feels slightly guilty for having left the white-haired girl alone when she had clearly been in a great deal of distress. It hadn't been his choice, nor does he think that he would have provided any valuable emotional support, but he still feels a degree of responsibility. She had probably had another nightmare…

Before he can stop his feet, they take him closer to the door. The Japanese man enters the medical wing hesitantly, careful not to make any sudden noise.

What he sees in the room makes his stomach fall to his feet.

Allen is huddled into a ball, withdrawn closely into herself as though wary of anyone seeing her. The nurse sits beside her, her arms wrapped around the smaller girl. Cross is there, too; he sees Kanda as soon as he comes in, and nods at him with a stiff grimace. The samurai half-expects to be kicked out by the General, but he says nothing. Rather, Cross looks as though he is trying to hold in his rage.

Kanda has no understanding or context of what is happening—he has no idea what is going on. He merely lingers by the door, debating whether or not he should leave—and the nurse soon takes notice of him.

"Kanda, what are you doing here?" she asks him, trying to shield the white-haired girl with her arms.

"I came to see the Moyashi," he says matter-of-factly.

The Head Nurse sighs. "I'm sorry, Kanda—she's had an extremely difficult day. If you could come back later—"

"No," the white-haired girl whines, her voice carrying over to him even through her sobs. "He can stay." Everyone, even Cross, seems somewhat surprised by her admission.

"Are you sure, Allen-chan?" the nurse asks. "You should get some rest…"

"I don't want to sleep," Allen replies. Her voice is tired, and she wipes her eyes as she tries to regain control over her sobs. "Kanda."

"…What?"

"Are you okay? Did Central do anything to you…because of me?"

The samurai can hardly believe his ears. Even with everything that's happening to her—though he still doesn't know exactly what that is—the white-haired girl still takes time to worry about others.

 _She really is an idiot Moyashi_ , he thinks. "I'm fine," he tells her. "They just asked me a lot of questions—how I found you. They want to talk to you, too—you should probably tell Leverrier that she's sick, Nurse."

Allen glances up at him then, shooting Kanda a smile that is at once grateful and so tragic that it tugs at his insides. Even though he would like to deny that he has one, the samurai can feel the organ in his chest hurting for her when she looks at him like that.

_What the hell happened to her?_


	23. A Glimpse of Jealousy

_A cool breeze blows wisps of hair against her neck, tickling the sensitive skin of her nape and causing her to shiver in response. The wind is picking up; it almost seems like the end of the winter, the start of spring, though Allen knows that this cannot be. Wherever she is, she must be dreaming…though she will freely admit that a dream has never been so pleasant, at least not as of late. It's beautiful here, with the air so fresh and crisp and the grass on either side of her so green. The buildings are white and pristine, built with the finest methods of architecture the world has to offer._

_And it all makes her sick, for a reason that she knows the moment she takes a closer look at her surroundings. Panic seizes the white-haired girl as she recognizes where she is; in spite of the fuzziness of her vision and the distorted images that remind her of crumpled photographs, the young woman knows full well where she is._

_She's on Noah's Ark._

How did I get here? _Allen struggles to force the stark terror down, trying to recall her rationality and reason before collapsing into hopelessness._ I escaped! I got away…

_Not for lack of trying, she fails to move her feet and tear herself off of the path that has been laid before her. She keeps moving, one booted foot in front of the other, despite the violent protests of her mind._

_And then, from beside her, through the panic and the fear, Allen hears someone talking to her._

" _Are you listening to me?"_

_The person's—a woman, the white-haired girl places—voice is distorted, heavy and echoing in the distant caverns of her eardrums. She says nothing in response, but hears herself release a sigh against her will._

" _You must be kidding, dear," the woman says jokingly. "I swear, Neah, you are aloof enough to drive a less patient woman mad. Mind you, I would never consider such a thing. Madness should be reserved for the most hardy of fools, but only to serve as a temporary mechanism for conveying life lessons. Quite a shame that so many innocents suffer from it, don't you think?"_

 _Against her body's will, Allen turns her head to glance at the woman walking beside her—and releases a startled gasp within her mind. It's_ her _—upon first glance, Allen believes that she is walking beside herself. But no…that cannot be right. It's impossible; she cannot be talking to herself. Even so…this woman has her face, her expressions…but the coloring is all wrong. She is older, with a more mature bone structure; her face is devoid of the pentacle scar, her eyes are a bright gold, her hair an inky black—and her skin is a soft gray hue. On top of this, Allen takes note of one final piece of information: this woman has a line of stigmata running across her forehead. And it is this detail that finally clues the white-haired girl in to what's going on._

She called me Neah _, she thinks, and suddenly, it occurs to her._ This must be one of the Fourteenth's memories…which means…she must be Ezra. Yes, of course! She's my…my grandmother…

_If Allen had doubted her relation to—or the existence of—the Fifteenth before, even in the smallest way, she can no longer do so now. Aside from the distinct coloring of the Clan of Noah and the stigmata on her forehead, this woman resembles her in every conceivable way._

_Of course, on top of the blatant shock that comes from seeing her dead family member, Allen also realizes that she is trapped in this memory with no idea of how to get out. She is in Neah's body, experiencing this memory from his point of view—which also means that nothing that happens right now is subject to change. Everything he had seen and heard in this moment, she will also see and hear. All she can do is watch._

_Allen cannot stop her body when she responds to Ezra, and is taken aback by the low-pitched tenor of her own voice. Neah's voice._

" _I don't think everyone who possesses madness in their hearts is innocent," she hears him say. "Many of them bring it upon themselves. Go spend a night down at the brothels and opium dens—you will see what I mean."_

" _I would ask you why you were there, but I already know what kind of man you are," Ezra teases. "But did you ever consider why those people do what they do? Perhaps the abuse of their bodies and minds, and those of others, affords them a way to forget the madness, even if only for a moment. I'm not saying that what they do is right—in fact, there are many things people do to others that are unforgivable to the victims. I am only asking you to try to understand why the mad do what they do."_

" _Hm. You always were more forgiving than me," Allen hears Neah say. He turns his head to stare back at the path ahead of them, his eyes lingering on a daisy that is starting to bloom out of the soil._

_Ezra laughs, the sound light and airy like wind chimes. "Why, listen to you! Still so cynical after all this time! Do not forget, my dear Neah, that you are Destruction. Saving the damned and the mad is not your duty; it is mine. It is my burden to bear in return for my gifts. As such, we should not expect each other to share the other's point of view. In your case, you may not even understand mine. But I know you, and I know that you are not as harsh as you would like me to believe."_

_Allen cannot tell, but she believes that Neah must have been affronted, or at least caught off guard by such a claim; he swivels his head to glance at Ezra once more, but now her eyes are no longer set on him—rather, they seem to have caught sight of something ahead of them. Neah turns his head to follow her eyes, and Allen feels a frown overtake her face at what she sees. Or, more accurately, whom she sees._

_At first, she has no idea who the man is. He is standing on the top step that leads up to one of the buildings, looking composed and regal against the backdrop of the Greek architecture. He is a Noah as well, obviously, though Allen cannot place who he is; he doesn't look like any of the Noah that she has seen so far, but she cannot deny that something about him seems familiar…and ominous. He has long black hair tied in a ribbon at his nape, and the wavy strands reach a few inches past his shoulders. He is undeniably handsome, with elegant features that highlight his piercing eyes. He sports a long trench coat that falls past his knees, and his hands are buried deep within the pockets. As he watches the pair approach, his calm eyes flick from Ezra to Neah, and they become hardened and cold._

_Allen doesn't trust him in the slightest. There is something about the way he is looking at her—at Neah—that sets her on edge. And that's when it occurs to the white-haired girl—the Noah staring at her can be none other than Joyd's previous incarnation. It only makes sense; Neah had told her that Joyd never trusted him—perhaps now she can find out why._

_From beside her, Allen sees Ezra raise a hand in greeting, effectively pulling Joyd's attention away from Neah._

" _Joyd! Have you been waiting for us? I do hope the Earl hasn't called the meeting yet!"_

_Neah says nothing as the woman next to him picks up her pace, sauntering up to the Noah of Pleasure with a welcoming smile on her face. Allen watches their exchange from a distance, waiting at the foot of the stairs at Neah's behest. She would do the same if she were in Neah's shoes—which she technically is; she wants to stay as far away from Joyd as humanly possible._

_All of Joyd's attention is on Ezra as she approaches him, and even Allen finds herself mesmerized by the pure light that seems to radiate from her grandmother's happy expression. As a spectator, it almost seems as though Ezra has never been so pleased to see another person in all of her life, as though she is made complete merely by interacting with Joyd. Of course, as an objective audience and Neah's vessel, she knows full well that this is not the case, but is a product of the Fifteenth's otherworldly ability to charm and befriend all of those she comes across. This is not to say that Ezra is being dishonest or deceitful in her affection, but she is simply treating Joyd as she treats all other living things._

_Allen watches with phantom nausea as Ezra embraces Joyd, and is frankly shocked that he doesn't show any sign of restraining the use of his ability in order to avoid being touched. The woman places one hand on his back and lays the other flat against his chest, directly over his heart._

Is this how she greets people? _Allen thinks to herself._ It's so…intimate.

_And, judging by the look on Joyd's face, he thinks so, too. As she watches the scene with curious eyes, the white-haired girl sees him swallow a lump in his throat when Ezra pulls away, and his hands flex in his pockets as though wishing to pull her back to him._

" _Good morning, Ezra," he says to her, bowing slightly. "Did you sleep well? I must say, you look radiant."_

_The woman laughs, her voice full of gentle humor. "Have you been standing out here all morning to tell me that? Why, Joyd, I do think you've gone soft."_

_The other Noah stares at her with panicked eyes, but Ezra quickly moves to assuage his fears. "I am only kidding, dear. I slept wonderfully, and you flatter me with your compliment. Thank you. It's always a pleasure to see you, Joyd." She turns her head away for a moment, returning her attention to the man standing behind her. "But what of Neah, standing there like an antisocial patriarchal male? You two really should try to get along. We are all family, are we not?"_

_Allen's blood goes cold then as Joyd's eyes move back to focus on her. A cold disregard fills the man's golden depths, sending ominous shivers down her spine and memories of blood soaring across her vision._

" _Yes," Joyd agrees, his voice stiff and deadly. "We are."_

* * *

Air rushes back into Allen's lungs far too fast, filling her with the uncontrollable urge to cough. Her eyes pop open with shock, and fear turns her veins to ice upon waking to a world of darkness. Her head is pounding, and an intense pain is shooting back and forth between her temples. Her body is overheated with apparent exertion, and sweat has beaded on her brow, rolling down the sides of her face with crawling sensations that only intensify the young woman's panic.

The white-haired girl gasps loudly, her hand moving with lightning-fast reflexes to grab ahold of the fabric over her heart. Though she relaxes upon feeling the organ's steady beat, she soon becomes hyperaware of her body's discomfort.

"Moyashi?"

Allen jumps, gasping as someone beside her speaks. Of course, she logically knows that this person will not harm her; she would know that low tenor anywhere. "Kanda…" she sighs, her voice harsh. The pounding ache in her skull keeps her from forming any complex questions, such as where she is or what is going on. Her words are dominated by her overwhelmed senses. "M-my head…."

"Should I get the Head Nurse?" the Japanese man offers, and Allen can see his silhouette leaning over her.

 _Head Nurse…so I'm still in the medical wing, then._ She shakes her head, allowing her eyes to slide shut once again. All of a sudden, the dryness of her throat becomes paramount, making itself known with a vengeance. "Kanda…w-water, please…"

Distantly, the white-haired girl can hear Kanda shuffling around in the dark room. A few moments later, she almost sighs in relief when she feels her head being tilted upwards, allowing cool liquid to wet her throat. She only receives a few heavenly sips before her head once again hits the pillow, and she allows sleep to pull her under a second time.

"Thank you, Kanda…"

* * *

After Allen's eyes slide closed once more, it only takes a few seconds for her breathing pattern to slow and even out.

 _Guess she fell asleep again_ , Kanda thinks with a sigh. At that moment, his stomach decides to alert him to his imminent hunger; how long had it been since he had last eaten? It can't have been longer than the white-haired girl had, but _he's_ awake. He has to eat sometime.

The samurai allows a few minutes to pass before going to get something from the cafeteria—to go, of course. He doesn't have time to be dawdling while the Moyashi is in the medical wing—not with the Head Nurse and Cross's watchful eye on him.

Though, at this point, if he were to deny that this is the only reason for him staying with her, he may as well threaten to slice himself in half.

* * *

It is on his way back to the medical ward that the Japanese man comes across a scene that causes him to narrow his eyes in suspicion. At the entrance to the ward, the Head Nurse is standing tall, blocking the door with what appears to be sheer force of will. Cross is lingering beside her with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and standing in front of them both is Leverrier. The Inspector looks put off, though Kanda reasons that he always looks that way.

As the samurai watches, the nurse proceeds to chastise the Inspector.

"I refuse to allow one of my patients to be subjected to your ill treatment," she hisses at the man, her mouth a stiff line. "Have you no respect for the exorcists who risk their lives for your organization?"

"Don't twist my words," Leverrier responds, narrowing his eyes at the older woman. "You know as well as I do that Allen Walker must be treated as a potential suspect—"

"I know no such thing," the nurse spits back at him. "You keep saying that, but it all sounds like nonsense to me. We should be welcoming her back with open arms instead of fear and suspicion."

"Why must everyone here be so foolish? You do not understand what we—Cross, if you would refrain from blowing your smoke directly in my face, I would be much obliged!"

"Am I? Well, I tend not to notice things that have no conscience. Perhaps your position of power is getting to your head, Inspector." As always, Cross pays little mind to Leverrier, who fumes silently in response.

"As I was saying, you are in no position to refute my authority, Nurse. I ask that you cooperate, even if you do not understand the situation."

"All I know is that one of my patients is very sick, and I would be a poor caregiver and nurse if I were to allow you and your men to see her while she is in such a state," the Head Nurse asserts, refusing to budge from her position. "I do not even believe that being in the medical ward itself is good for Allen-chan. She is dealing with a great amount of emotional and physical strain right now, Inspector. Please try to understand. I believe she should be sent back to her own room to recuperate—the familiarity might be of some comfort to her. I would send her back now, but I have no one to look after her. I cannot leave the ward to privately care for her, given my workload. In any case, Allen-chan is under enough stress as it is; she doesn't need you to question her loyalty on top of it."

Cross says nothing throughout the entire exchange, seeming satisfied with the nurse's monologue. Leverrier frowns heavily at the older woman, and looks as though he plans on trying to rebuff her claims again.

Before he can, Kanda steps into the spotlight.

"I'll do it."

Three pairs of confused eyes turn to glance at him when the Japanese man speaks, and for the first time Kanda finds himself almost regretting his rash actions. However, it becomes more than worth it when he sees the look of obvious displeasure on Leverrier's face.

"What?" the man barks.

Kanda steps towards the trio, meeting the Inspector's eyes head on. "I said that I'll take care of her. If the Moyashi gets moved back to her room, I'll be around to make sure she's okay, and I'll call the nurse if something goes wrong. Allen isn't fit to talk with the likes of your idiotic guards right now."

Leverrier glares at the exorcist with an expression that would have sent a lesser man running for the hills, but as it is doesn't even make Kanda flinch. He releases an audible exhale, turning back to address the Head Nurse once again.

"Do you know what's wrong with Walker?"

"She's been very ill. Night terrors, vomiting, high fever—all the marks of influenza. I would imagine that her time in captivity took a toll on her as well."

"…Fine, then. I concur to you, Nurse; I will give you three more time to get her settled in her own room, but once she's well enough, I want to speak with her immediately." With that, the Inspector turns tail and saunters away, leaving the Head Nurse to release a sigh of relief.

"Thank you for your help, Kanda," she says, placing a hand over her heart. "I know how standoffish you can be. You have no idea how grateful Allen-chan will be when she learns that you stood up to Leverrier for her."

In spite of the woman's kind words, Kanda already has a pretty good guess. _More grateful than I deserve, I'll bet. That's just how she is._

* * *

Waking up in a place that she cannot remember going to would normally be a terrifying experience, but in this instance Allen finds that she doesn't feel anything but relief. This is because her monstrous headache and nausea seem to have disappeared for the most part. Her severe discomfort has receded—and just as well, because now she recognizes where she is.

She's back in her old room at the Order. The white-haired girl recognizes the familiar softness of the bed beneath her, smells the same musty odor that permeates the room no matter how hard she tries to get rid of it—everything is the same. It's a miracle that she can even tell, because her vision is still somewhat blurry and disoriented from her waking state.

The young woman groans a bit as she sits up, the covers pooling around her waist. Someone has finally bothered to change her clothes; now she is wearing thin bedclothes that allow her skin to be cooled by the open air. It had probably been the nurse who changed her, which means that the older woman must have seen the rest of her bruises and cuts…

Allen tries to push away the shame she feels at such a display of weakness, but it keeps coming back no matter how hard she tries. She doesn't know how long she will have to live with the shame on her body—the shame that is now growing inside her—but this feeling does not seem to be going away any time soon.

Slowly, she allows a hand to descend to her stomach; if she focuses, the white-haired girl is able to feel the slightest amount of firm, raised skin—this is probably what had incited the nurse to her line of questioning in the medical ward. Had the nurse not mentioned anything, and had she not realized what's going on with her body, Allen most likely would not have noticed anything amiss until at least another month. The bump is barely noticeable, and can be easily explained away as excess fat; however, she knows that what is actually there is far more sinister than the results of her overeating.

She has no idea what she's going to _do_. This fetus is the offspring of a Noah, conceived in the vilest of ways. It shouldn't exist; how could such a thing even happen in the first place? As if her life weren't already chaotic enough, now she is saddled with another burden, one that will certainly spell more trouble than she could ever have imagined.

And now, coupled with her most recent dream, the white-haired girl only feels worse. Tears poke at the corner of her eyes, but she pushes them down when she hears someone beside her clear their throat.

Allen glances at her bedside to see Kanda reclining in a chair, looking as apathetic as ever but for the undertone of worry she can see in his dark eyes.

"Oi, Moyashi. You're finally awake."

The young woman nods, shooting the Japanese man a sincere smile. "Yeah—thanks to you and the Head Nurse. My memory is a bit fuzzy, but I remember that you were there in the medical wing when I woke up last. Thank you for being there. It…it means a lot to know that someone has my back."

Kanda grunts at her, crossing his arms as he leans back against the wall. "Well, I'm probably not the only one. Lenalee and the baka usagi will be back from their mission soon, and they're going to want to see you. We managed to get Leverrier to leave you alone for the time being. We told him that you're sick, but who knows how long that'll last." The samurai sighs, impatiently drumming his fingers against Mugen. "In the meantime, if anything happens to you while you're alone, you should call Cross or I by golem. Cross left Tim with you."

Indeed, the moment Kanda says his name the golden golem flutters over to the white-haired girl, flying around her head in what looks like a friendly gesture.

"Hey, Tim!" Allen coos at the small object. "Are you worried about me, too? I'm surprised Master Cross is willing to part with you so soon after reuniting…I guess that means he must be at least a little worried…" No small amount of guilt gnaws at her insides for her harsh words to the red-haired man, but she quickly pushes it aside. He deserves to have her mad at him and more! All he had ever done aside from teaching her to hunt Akuma is keep secrets and send her on a wild goose chase—a few of them, actually. He deserves to suffer at least a little…

Thankfully, Kanda cannot sense the object of her inner turmoil; he merely watches the white-haired girl coddle the golden golem for a few seconds with a perplexed look on his face. When Timcanpy settles atop her head, he clears his throat loudly.

Tearing her attention from the golem, Allen looks back towards the samurai. "Thanks, Kanda. I know you're probably the last person who wants to do this—take care of me, I mean. I keep passing out on you, don't I?" She grins at the stoic man, trying to convey through her eyes that she is truly grateful. "If you're going to be helping watch out for me, then I promise that I won't be too much of a burden to you. I hope so, at least." She laughs nervously, taking his silence as the signal of the end of this conversation. She turns away.

A few moments later, however, the white-haired girl hears Kanda release an annoyed sigh, leaving her to wonder what she had said wrong this time.

To her surprise, the samurai's mood has nothing to do with her annoying behavior. "Look, Moyashi…I don't know what happened to you while you were gone, okay?"

Allen tenses at his words, which are but a cruel reminder of what had happened to her in her absence.

"But even if everyone else besides Cross and the Head Nurse is too stupid to see it, it's obvious to me that you have something you're not telling everyone. I don't know if Cross knows exactly what it is, but I don't really care. Just…don't be an idiot. If anything happens, call either him or me. I'm only reminding you because I know you're going to try to pretend that everything's fine when you and I both know that's bullshit. That's how you are."

Kanda sighs again, releasing an annoyed _tch_. "It's still your call, though. Just know that I'm actually going to try to help this time. If you're a pain in the ass when you're healthy, then I can only imagine what you'd be like after being sick for so long. So…yeah."

A brief doubt goes through the young woman's head, and she questions whether or not this is actually Kanda in front of her. Yet despite his unprecedented offer and apparent concern for her well-being, Allen recognizes his brash demeanor to be none other than his own. He really is being sincere…the thought makes her heart swell. It's almost too much to comprehend, but Allen feels a burst of warmth in her chest.

"I know you will," she says, her voice quivering. "You're my friend, after all, Bakanda."

* * *

_Images, distorted and bent and accompanied by the echoes of muted sounds that have been long buried in memory, assault her senses as she tries without success to get away from them._

_At once, it seems she is everywhere and nowhere, in the Order yet also sitting at a table surrounded by Noah that she hasn't seen and does not know. They are all around her, enclosing the white-haired girl on both sides, and across the table she can see Joyd and Ezra sitting beside each other. As for the others in her field of vision, they are unrecognizable._

What am I doing here? I don't know who most of these people are…

_But she does know them, or at least Neah does. They must be the previous incarnations of the Noah Clan—which means that she must be caught up in his web of memories again. What can she do? Just sit still and wait for them to cease? Can she somehow flick through them as she so chooses, like the pages of a book that will allow her to learn more about her increasingly bizarre and convoluted backstory?_

_At that moment, Allen is pulled from her musings; another image, another memory, flies through her head. The world around her goes dim, and now the only thing she can see in front of her is the face of someone who is very familiar._

_Road Camelot is staring up at her—at Neah—looking the same as always with her wild hair and devious eyes. It seems she hasn't aged a day from the time Neah remembers her. As the white-haired girl watches, Road picks up one of Neah's hands and entwines her pinky with his._

A promise? _Allen thinks to herself._ Were Road and Neah…friends? I mean, obviously they knew each other since they're both Noah, but I always got the impression that Neah wasn't very social when it came to his Noah family—apart from Ezra, of course.

_Allen watches with disbelieving eyes as the spiky-haired girl winks up at her._

" _Don't worry, Neah," she coos in her familiar high-pitched voice. "I promise to always stand by you. You can count on me—I won't tell Lord Millennium about that human brother of yours. It'll only cause trouble, won't it?"_

_Allen barely has time to register what she's seeing before the memory is violently ripped away from her, and she finds herself spiraling downwards. Air escapes her, leaving the young woman gasping for breath as a fish out of water until another inescapable scene envelops her. Pain lances through her skull as the area around her begins to lose its blurred form, reshaping and coming together into a picture that makes sense. All of a sudden, the world around her becomes clear, and what Allen sees in front of her nearly takes her breath away again._

_Ezra is reclining on an old brown sofa beside Neah, but she isn't looking at him. Rather, she is glancing down at something in her arms. However, her appearance at first takes Allen off guard; she isn't in her Noah form. She looks human, and the vivid clarity with which Allen sees herself in the older woman does not go unaddressed. Ezra could be her twin but for the chestnut color of her hair; her eyes are equally large and radiant, shining with a silvery hue that had previously been masked by the gold of the Noahs' eyes._

_And even more alarming is what the white-haired girl sees in her arms. An infant, young and with barely a tuft of red hair peeking out from beneath the blankets she is coddled in, is sleeping soundly in Ezra's arms. The mother has a smile on her face, a sleepy grin that speaks volumes about the contentment she feels in this moment—not knowing that in only a few years, it will all be ripped away._

" _Neah," Ezra says, looking up and meeting Allen's eyes. "I can't believe I've been a mother for this long. Isn't she beautiful?"_

_Shock seems to freeze her limbs, and before she has a chance to hear what Neah says in response, she is whisked away once more._

_The memories seem to fly much faster now, with a lack of chronology and a speed too rapid for her to digest them. There are more images of Jane, a mishmash of photographs that display her physical changes as she grows and begins to be more curious about her mother's odd habits._

" _Mother!"_

_The child's cry tugs harshly at Allen's heartstrings, for the little girl sounds as though she is in more pain than should be allowed for someone of her age._

Is that my mother? Is that—

_There is more confusion, more unintelligible cries of agony that draw real cries from Allen's throat._

_And then there is crimson._

_Blood soaks into her vision, painting her eyelids red as the white-haired girl tries futilely to make sense of her surroundings. Horror overtakes her as, against her will, a memory that will haunt her forever enters her field of vision._

_Ezra, her eyes devoid of life and light, devoid of hope as blood trails in thin lines down the gray skin of her chin. Her blood is dark, much darker than normal blood, but it makes Allen feel sick nonetheless. As she continues to watch in undisguised horror, another trickle of blood makes it way out of the corner of her mouth._

" _Mother!"_

_The horrifying image fades away, melting and reforming into the face of someone else. As the white-haired girl watches, her terror becomes paramount as Ezra's face becomes one far more sinister._

_Tyki Mikk stares at her with the same expression he had on the day of her escape, with his curly hair mussed and golden eyes glowing with ecstasy. In less than a second, the scene reforms again, and the Noah's expression turns to one of unimaginable anger—anger directed at her. Murder lights up his eyes as his grin becomes a sneer—and it is at this moment when Allen realizes that she is no longer trapped in Neah's memories._

_No, this nightmare is all her own._

* * *

Allen hears herself screaming as she awakens, her throat scratched raw from her terrified wails. The bedcovers are tangled in her legs, and she kicks futilely at the unseen force. Tears are streaming from her eyes, courtesy of both the stark fear she feels and the blinding ache that reverberates throughout her skull. Another ache makes itself known, one in the pit of her stomach that has her worrying for a panic-filled moment that this pregnancy will end like the last one.

But the pain soon ebbs away, leaving the white-haired girl lying in her tangled, sweat-soaked sheets and her own tears, but otherwise unharmed. She sobs of both relief and agony into her hands, but the sorrowful noises slip out into the darkness of the room. She is solitary here but for the Noah in her mind and the thing growing in her womb, and she has never felt more alone.

"T-Tim," she manages to choke out through her sobs. The golem flies over to her, settling down beside her head—almost as though he's trying to comfort her. She has to call someone; she cannot be alone right now—or, at the very least, she has to talk to someone until she falls asleep. "Call…" Who should she call? Cross? He would probably insist on asking her what her dreams were about…and she really doesn't want to talk about them right now. "…Kanda."

The white-haired girl waits a few painful moments for the Japanese man to answer, keeping her fingers crossed that he will not simply ignore the call.

Her prayers are answered a few seconds later when the echo of static begins to issue from Tim's speaker.

" _Hello?_ " Kanda's voice croaks out, sounding as though he had just been woken up. There is a tinge of irritation to his voice, though Allen considers that normal. " _Who is this?_ "

When the time comes, though, the young woman finds that she cannot speak. He had told her to call him if something happened—does this situation qualify? Not wanting to be alone would probably be, in his opinion, a stupid reason for him to come see her. Should she just hang up? Yet, even with the thought of Kanda possibly being furious with her, the idea of spending the rest of the night—however long that may be—lying here in misery is enough to cause Allen to release another sob.

Apparently, Kanda is able to hear her crying through his golem, because he starts talking again.

" _Who's there? I swear to God, if you think you're being funny, Komui, I'll slice you and your machines to bits! I'm sick of being woken up in the middle of the night to come test one of your half-baked inventions."_

This time, Allen's sob is louder, and for a moment Kanda is completely silent on the other side. _"…Moyashi? Is that you?"_

She tries to regain control over her breathing, but the white-haired girl's heavy sobs and sniffles severely hinder her efforts. But despite her inability to get a single word out, she hears Kanda sigh on the other side. _"Hold on a second. I'll be right over. Idiot Moyashi…"_ With that, the connection is severed.

Shocked at first by the stoic man's lack of complaint, Allen merely waits for Kanda to follow through on his word. In the meantime, she tries to banish the terrifying vestiges of her nightmare from her head—the one of Ezra, and especially the one of Tyki. No matter what she does or how hard she tries, will he continue to haunt her? Will he ever cease to occupy a space in her mind and heart? Even in her dreams, the places that are supposed to be refuges from a bleak reality, the Noah of Pleasure still manages to terrorize her. It's almost more than she can bear at this point.

This is how Kanda finds her when he forces his way into the room in his usual brash fashion—curled up in a fetal position on the bed, with her white hair splayed across the pillow. Her puffy, tear-swollen eyes are an obvious sign to the samurai that something is amiss.

"Moyashi?"

Allen turns her head to look at him, and he cringes slightly at the pain she knows must be showing on her face.

"What happened? Did you have another nightmare?"

 _If only you knew…the last few months have been nothing but one long nightmare._ She doesn't say this, of course—she merely nods at his inquiry.

Kanda sighs, scratching the back of his head. "I'll go get you some water—"

"No," she interjects. "No, don't leave. Just…just stay here. Please."

The Japanese man appears confused by her request, the tops of his cheeks lighting up with a small blush. "Why?"

"I just…don't want to be alone right now. Please, Kanda? I won't tell anyone."

Though he still seems a bit unnerved by her behavior, he relents and takes a seat in the chair beside her bed. He deposits Mugen's sheath against the wall, crossing his legs and leaning his head against the wall.

Still, Allen feels nervous and unhinged. Having him sitting next to her bed...in some ways, it makes her feel even more distant. "Kanda…would you mind just lying next to me?"

At that, the man's eyes snap open in shock, and his stoic features contort into disbelief. "What? Why?"

"It helps when I'm close to another person—someone I can trust. It's okay if you don't want to, though—I understand."

Though Kanda is sporting a blush that consumes his entire face—Allen cannot tell whether or not it's from anger—he awkwardly does as she asks. He goes around to the other side of the bed and lies down on his back, and the white-haired girl curls toward him. She is careful not to touch him, though; if his stiff pose and even stiffer expression are any indication, he wouldn't appreciate her touch. She keeps her hands tucked securely into the front of her chest. Before she knows it, Kanda's warmth and proximity lulls her back into sleep, and the world around her and all of her problems seem less daunting. Just before the young woman is pulled back into the world of dreams, she feels a pressure on her scalp.

Kanda is leaning his cheek on the top of her head.


	24. A Series of Mistakes

How long has it been since he has seen her now?

A week?

Two?

To him, it feels nothing short of an eternity since she has left him, and being self-isolated from the rest of his family does nothing to make him feel better about the situation. Rather, being alone only results in Tyki feeling as though he is slipping further into the darkness he has been cursed with.

Surprisingly enough, though, he doesn't care about the darkness that continues to encroach further into his mind. What he _does_ care about, though, is what the white-haired girl is doing.

Where is she right now? Back at the Order? Is she eating? Sleeping? Perhaps she is on another mission...

Or maybe she is even sitting alone somewhere, silently musing over the recent developments in her life. Wherever she is, is she thinking of him? She must be—with a hint of irony, he reasons that after everything that has happened between them, Allen would be hard-pressed to _not_ think about him. A part of Tyki—the part that, in spite of everything that has happened, still contains a tiny shred of hope—he hopes that she is thinking of him… Yet, another part, the one that is still festering in rage, pain, and betrayal, knows that if she is, it can only be with emotions of hate and fear.

As he imagines her hating him, cursing his name with the name of her God, the Noah's heart clenches in physical pain. He imagines her sitting alone in her room, despising him for all that he has done to her. The hatred is well-deserved, the rational part of him knows; how could she not, after all that he has done to her? Tyki destroyed her Innocence, defiled her on the cold hard ground of a Chinese forest, injured her friends, stole her from her home, and proceeded to violate her time after time after time…

Despite how he always saw the pain in her eyes when she thought he wasn't looking, despite how miserable he knows she must have been, despite how he could see her heart breaking little by little every time he came back to see her…and despite the silent tears he saw her cry in her sleep, leaking from the corners of her beautiful eyes and soaking the pillow beneath her, he never once did anything to alleviate her suffering. All he did was aggravate it, and only on one occasion did he ever apologize for his actions.

He tore her apart, and became angry at her when she retreated into herself as any other person would have done long ago. He took her innocence from her, and reacted only with more violence when she called him on his actions. He tried to destroy her spirit, and only when he thought he succeeded did Tyki finally come to appreciate what he had really wanted all along.

What he wanted all along is _her_ —but because of his own short-sighted selfishness, he neglected the possibility of ever proving himself to be anything other than a monster in her eyes.

It's his fault.

He has no one else to blame but himself.

And he knows it.

But still…the selfish half of him, the half that Tyki feels is winning the war inside him, denies her hatred as valid. Because he wants—no, he _needs_ —her to come back, and by not doing so she is only perpetuating his hate. He needs her to be with him, by his side. It may sound strange, but Allen's presence both keeps him sane and drives him closer to the brink of insanity. Why could she just have not left? _Why did she leave him_? Time and time again, Tyki asks himself the same question—and he only becomes more angered when he realizes that he already knows the answer.

Allen left him because if she were to stay, she would only continue to wilt until she was nothing more than a lifeless husk. She would be betraying her friends. But above all else, it is because she views him as an enemy. Yet no matter how many times he tells this to himself, Tyki can never seem to grasp it.

If the white-haired girl were to come back to him, he would be different. He would talk to the Earl about sparing her, and he would try in any way he could to convince her to stay. He would not touch her again, not without her permission and not unless he was certain she wanted him to—for the sake of being with him, not because she wants to use him as a means for escape.

But it's far too late for any of that now, isn't it? In his heart, the Noah of Pleasure knows that now, Allen Walker—the Fourteenth—will only be seen as an enemy. And it is with this thought in mind that Tyki walks into the dining hall, answering the Earl's call for a family meeting.

As predicted, he is the last one there. All of the other Noah who have reincarnated so far are here: Road, Sheril, Lulu Bell, Wisely, Devitto, Jasdero, Skinn, and of course, the Millennium Earl himself. Everyone stares at Tyki as he takes a seat at the empty table, but he pays them no mind. Right now he is too preoccupied with trying to clear his mind of all incriminating thoughts.

Finally, with his arrival, the Earl starts the meeting.

"Welcome, my family," he beams, clapping his hands together in glee. "It warms my heart to see so many of you returned—and all of you so beautiful! Truly, your new vessels all fit you quite well—I hadn't noticed until now. Except for you, Road—you look just as stunning as you always have."

"Thank you, Lord Millennium," the young girl says, twirling a lock of spiky hair around her finger.

"You're very welcome, dear. Now, as I was saying earlier, I have some very interesting news regarding the Black Order."

The heads of all the Noah perk up at the mention of their enemies, and even Tyki finds himself unconsciously leaning closer to the Earl. Has something happened among the members of the Order? He sits up straighter in his seat, eager to hear any news that may allow him to infiltrate the Order once again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyki sees Wisely cast a bizarre glance in his direction. He ignores it.

"Sheril took the liberty of capturing a Finder on his last excursion. Under Wisely's care, we managed to find out something very interesting about Central. Apparently, this Finder accidentally overheard a conversation he was not meant to between a few of the more prominent members of the organization. They were talking about building up their numbers and mobilizing a new army of God, as well as a new security force that would prevent the Ark from materializing in or around Headquarters. I can only assume that they are referring to some sort of protective gate. How they are planning on creating such a barrier remains to be seen, though it only makes sense that they would use any information they gained from this Ark while it was in their hands. This could pose a problem for us.

"As far as offensive tactics go, aside from their plans to build up a new army of Finders, I do not know what else they are plotting. However, one thing is for certain—with Allen Walker gone and almost certainly returned to the Order, they now have the Fourteenth on their side. Who knows what she will tell them? All I can say is that in the course of a few months, or perhaps even less, this hundred-year war will come to an end. With the moves the Order is making, as well as the imminent awakening of the Fourteenth, it is only a matter of time."

* * *

Relative peace, even with the usual nagging depression pressing at the corner of her mind, has settled over her. Not a single nightmare or Noah memory had plagued Allen's dreams last night, and she is immensely grateful. She feels significantly more rested than she had been for all her time in the medical wing, despite having been unconscious for nearly the entire time. And it is because of this that the white-haired girl wakes up with warmth encasing her heart, filling her limbs and extremities with a pleasant buzzing sensation.

Or perhaps that is because there is someone else wrapped around her.

Allen has to fight down the panic for a moment before she remembers that she is not in the Ark; she is back at the Order, in her own bed. Tyki is no longer here; he cannot hurt her. After a few seconds of deep breathing, the young woman opens her eyes only to find herself staring into the rose cross of an exorcist coat. She can feel someone's heartbeat beneath her hand, and registers that her legs are entangled with another person's. Just as well, Allen can feel the light puffs of warm air that blow gently across her face and coincide with the rise and fall of the person's chest. The weight of their cheek on her scalp also tells the white-haired girl that said person is leaning on her.

And then the memory of last night hits her. How could she have forgotten? _It's Kanda_ , she tells herself, willing her mind to stop its reflexive panic. It gradually does, and in a few seconds her heartbeat has slowed to its familiar comforting pace. However, when it does, Allen remembers again that it is _Kanda_ who is curled around her right now. She blushes fiercely when she realizes that he actually did stay with her throughout the night. _I hadn't really expected him to…_ The fact that the samurai had is surprising, but makes the young woman smile nonetheless.

When the white-haired girl feels Kanda shift against her, she quickly snaps her eyes shut, feigning sleep once again. He grunts as he awakens, shifting against her but halting when he appears to realize where he is. Allen cannot see him, but she can practically feel his eyes boring into her face as his head leans upwards to stare down at her. The hairs that have come loose from his ponytail tickle her face, and Allen has to stifle the urge to wrinkle her nose.

Kanda sighs above her, but does not leave as the young woman expects him to. Instead, to Allen's eternal confusion, the stoic man does something she never would have expected from him. With two delicate fingers, he reaches out and brushes away the hair that has fallen into her eyes, exposing her sleeping face to him. She fervently hopes that she is not blushing, and holds her breath as she senses the samurai lean in closer.

 _What is he doing?_ Allen can feel the movement of the air on her face as he exhales, and she swallows dryly at the sensation.

Just as the white-haired girl feels his lips hovering hesitantly over her own, she hears her door get kicked open.

Both Kanda and Allen pull away from each other as the door collides with the adjacent wall, and Cross Marian barrels into the room with no regard for privacy. The man is accompanied by the familiar stench of booze and cigarettes and armed with his usual aloof demeanor.

Kanda is already on his feet, while Allen has pressed herself backwards against the headboard. Her heart is beating a mile a minute, but she still manages to find her anger through the haze of sudden shock and fear.

"Master!" she yells, drawing the blankets tighter around her body. "What are you doing?! You can't just burst into my room like that! What if I had been changing?!"

While Kanda's face has devolved into a rage-filled mask, Cross does not respond to her inquiries with any sense of urgency; he does not even bother to make eye contact with the young woman.

"Well, don't you two look guilty," he observes, casting glances at both Kanda's infuriated expression and Allen's now mortified one. "This is no time to be fooling around, you know—though that never did stop me."

The samurai's face takes on a flushed look, and the white-haired girl stutters in disbelief. "What are you talking about?" she demands. "We were just sleeping!"

"Hm," the General grunts. "I can see that. Judging by your behavior, idiot apprentice, I take it that you're feeling better?"

The merciful shift in topic allows Allen to relax somewhat, though she thinks cynically that "better" is a relative term. "As a matter of fact, yes. I'm feeling much better today. I think I'm ready to go back to my regular routine, at least for right now. I should go to the cafeteria—I haven't eaten Jerry's food in a while, and I'm sure he'd be happy to see me—"

"Not so fast, Allen," Cross interrupts her, throwing her a serious expression. "Have you forgotten about your situation? Leverrier's guards will be on you as soon as you leave this room."

 _Oh, yeah. I forgot about him…I guess I can't avoid him forever, can I?_ "I know that. I'm not totally helpless, Master. I can face him—"

"Are you sure about that? I won't go into detail, but you certainly did not look up to it just yesterday."

"For once, I agree with your alcoholic mentor," Kanda says, still bristling with distaste as he glances at the red-haired man. "How the hell are you _fine_ when just yesterday you didn't even want to be alone?"

"I never said I was fine!"

The two men go silent at her outburst, staring at her with cautious expressions as Allen tries to regain her breath. "I never said I was fine…but both of you know as well as I do that the longer I avoid him, the worse my situation will get. I don't know him well, but I've seen enough to know that Leverrier won't wait forever for me to get better. Waiting will only make it worse…and I'm not even sure if forever is long enough for me to feel fine again."

Cross casts a small smile in her direction, but beneath the man's calm exterior Allen can sense a festering rage. "I know. I just wanted to see what you would say. I wouldn't be much of a mentor if I just let you do whatever you wanted without questioning you, would I? And Kanda wouldn't be much of a…friend."

Ignoring the latter part of Cross's statement, Allen wants to simultaneously scream at him and embrace him—for one thing, he had always acted more like a drunken stepfather than a mentor, but on the other hand, Cross is the only person in the world who knows about all of her struggles. And even so, he still believes that she is the same person underneath it all. He isn't treating her as though she is fragile or delicate—he is treating her the same as he always does, despite the fact that the young woman can see the wrath that is festering inside him.

And right now, above all else, this is what the white-haired girl needs.

* * *

"Are you kidding me, Moyashi? Why are you doing this? That bastard is just going to torment you."

"You can't say that for sure, Kanda. Like I said before, I have to face him some time."

Kanda growls under his breath as the white-haired girl approaches Leverrier's makeshift office. Despite the Japanese man's protests, Allen refuses to admit that she is wrong about talking to Leverrier. Stalling will only make the situation worse.

"Allen—"

The young woman knocks on the door with a firm fist, ignoring Kanda's protests. She has to remain strong in her resolve; she will not let herself be swayed by fear or anger.

Still...it's a good thing she had eaten breakfast before coming here, otherwise she might have just fainted from anxiety.

" _Come in_." The Inspector's familiar drawl issues from inside.

As Kanda tries one more time to convince her otherwise, Allen opens the door and goes inside. She sends a small smile his way, reassuring him a final time before the door clicks shut behind her. The white-haired girl can tell he would like to follow her, but he merely stands in a stiff pose by the doorway.

And now, against Kanda's judgment, Allen is sitting in Leverrier's office, watching him with anxious eyes as he sits in the chair across from her. There are two guards stationed behind him, as well as two others who linger by the door. If the young woman were to try to leave now, they will surely stop her.

She has reached the point of no return. With a heavy heart, Allen swallows the lump in her throat.

"Miss Walker," the Inspector begins, folding his hands on the table. "I'm surprised you came to see me so soon."

"Yes, well…I felt much better this morning. Really, I think the Head Nurse is making a big deal out of nothing."

"Is she, now? That sounds just like her." Leverrier reclines in his chair, crossing his legs in a casual gesture. "In any case, I will not keep you long. How have you been since your return?"

Allen plasters on her best fake smile. "I've been fine, apart from being a bit under the weather. I've missed the Order—this place has been my only real home."

The man nods. "So everyone says. I'm glad to hear it—but if you wouldn't mind, can you tell me what happened to you during your time as a captive of the Noah Clan?"

Her throat appears to have gone suddenly dry. Images of her repeated torment flash through her mind, filling Allen with the urge to be sick all over Leverrier's desk. That might get her out of here for the day, but he would surely ask her the same question later. And when he does, her head will still be filled with the same renderings of Tyki Mikk as he isolates her; as Wisely and Sheril torture and humiliate her; as for the hundredth time, the Noah of Pleasure rapes her. She tries her best to force the trauma away and push it out of her mind.

"Well…I was held prisoner in a room...it had a bed and an adjoined bathroom. I was actually moved there after having been kept in an old cell for a few days. I was brought before the Earl multiple times, and when I wouldn't talk, I was tortured by one Noah in particular—the Noah of Wisdom, he told me. He used his ability to cause me pain, and on one occasion I actually lost consciousness. Apart from that…I had almost no contact with any of the other Noah. However, the Earl seemed to prefer holding a polite conversation with me. I think he was trying to entice me to cooperate by acting as though he didn't wish to hurt me. I didn't fall for it, though."

"And you never told him, or anyone else, anything about the Order, did you?"

She shakes her head, hoping fervently that her partially altered story will be enough to satisfy him.

It isn't.

"How did you manage to escape?"

A total blank enters her mind at the man's question, and Allen at first struggles to find an answer. "I…don't really remember, Inspector. I was nearly dead, and practically starving by the time I got out. I went on a hunger strike, of sorts, and one night I woke up in an empty field near a town called Gdynia. I suppose, knowing that I wouldn't tell them anything valuable, they decided to dump me somewhere using the Ark. I don't know why they didn't simply kill me or destroy my Innocence. I wish I had more to tell you, Inspector. I...got lucky, I guess. This town was also where Kanda Yuu was sent on his last mission. He found me."

Perhaps she is being biased, but Allen thinks that this is one of the worst lies she has ever told. Leverrier scrutinizes her intensely, causing Allen to break out in a sweat and fidget in her seat. However, contrary to what she had expected, he soon relaxes. "That correlates with Kanda Yuu's story. Anyway, Miss Walker…do you hate the Noah Clan?"

The young woman furrows her brows. "What do you mean? They're the enemy; of course I want to see them defeated."

"So you hate them, and wish to continue serving the Order as an exorcist, correct?"

"Yes, Inspector Leverrier. I really wish that you would stop questioning my loyalty, and the loyalty of my friends. Ever since I was a child I have devoted all my time to becoming an exorcist. My duty is to the Order, and to freeing all of the Akuma souls who have been manipulated by the Earl and the Noah. That's all I want."

If Leverrier sees through her carefully selected words, he does not show it. Instead, he merely sighs, closing his eyes and folding his hands in his lap. "Very well, Miss Walker—you are free to go."

Allen's eyes nearly bug out of her head. _Is that it?_ She had expected an endless barrage of questions, not a passive inquiry into her state of mind and her captive state. _Just what is going on here?_

Still, the white-haired girl decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and immediately gets up to leave.

Just as Allen takes a step through the door, however, the Inspector calls out to her.

"Miss Walker, have you tried on that new uniform yet? I haven't seen you wear it."

Allen smiles gently as she turns back around. "Oh, yes. I did, but I'm afraid I still prefer this old one. Master Cross found it for me and insisted that I continue to wear it. He never did like wasting clothes."

"I see. Well, be sure to thank the General for me, then." Something about the way Leverrier's expression shifts when he says this causes Allen to believe that gratitude is the last emotion he feels regarding Cross Marian. "And by the way, Walker, I am glad to see that you are looking so much better. I must say, for a moment I feared that the Noah family had tormented you beyond all recognition. I am glad this is not the case."

Allen nods, but she is shaking perceptibly when she exits the office. Leverrier's final words have pierced her more than the rest, and she knows perfectly well why. To her, at least, the Noahs' torment—Tyki's, to be more precise—has warped her in a very real way. She no longer feels like the same person—though that could be just as much a result of Neah's presence than anything else. Yet, deep inside her, the young woman knows that it is because of Tyki. His actions will stay with her forever, in the phantom touches she feels on her skin and the barest glimpses she sees in the corners of her eyes.

It will be a very long time before she can rest easily once again.

While she saunters down the hallway, she is not paying close attention to her surroundings; Allen is more than a little shocked when Kanda suddenly materializes in front of her, looking as stiff and subtly angry as ever.

 _Has he been standing out here this whole time?_ The white-haired girl fidgets beneath his surly gaze, but as he watches her obvious discomfort his features relax somewhat.

"Come on, Moyashi," he says. "Let's go get something to eat."

And, in spite of the fact that Allen had eaten breakfast not two hours before, she nods in agreement.

* * *

The pair spends the rest of the day training, an activity she had never particularly enjoyed when it came to the samurai. The both of them are extremely competitive, so it more often than not ended in an all-out brawl that had to be broken up by either Lenalee or Lavi—or both.

But now, neither of the aforementioned friends are here, and with Allen's current physical decline their sparring is all but competitive. She had told him to go easy on her, that she just wants to focus on strength training right now—without telling him, of course, that it's really because she doesn't want to injure her stomach while fighting. It's all she can do to avoid getting pummeled by Kanda, at least without invoking her Innocence.

In any case, she knows that she is in desperate need of any kind of training—being too weak to climb the Order's signature cliff had really given her some perspective—but this is ridiculous. She may have escaped from Tyki and the Earl, but those victories had been a sneak attack and a lucky break, respectively. Against the Japanese man, it is plain to see that her stamina is sorely lacking.

And it shows.

"Get up, Moyashi," Kanda commands as the white-haired girl falls to her butt for the twelfth time. Despite the fact that they are only trading shoulder blows, she has to keep sitting down every half hour or so. "Even out your weight next time."

"I'm _trying_ , Bakanda," she growls, sitting upright and rubbing her tender back. "It's not that easy to fight as well when you've been held prisoner for months, not to mention without invoking my Innocence."

"Tch. Try harder—or else I won't let you leave here. Ever."

Her entire body goes cold. Something about Kanda's tone of voice…or perhaps it's his words, causes a twinge of fear to flow through her veins. Whatever it is, anxiety snakes through her limbs, pooling in the center of her stomach as a hollow pit.

_I won't let you leave here. Ever._

For a moment, it almost seems as though Kanda's figure morphs into someone far more sinister, and Allen blinks her eyes rapidly to dispel the illusion. Her stomach roils with distaste, and she snaps her eyes shut tightly.

Kanda must notice that something is wrong, because she hears his footsteps as he approaches the area where she is sitting.

"What is it?"

She sighs heavily, placing her forehead on her bent knees. "It's nothing…listen, Kanda, we've been training and going over my form for hours. I don't think my body can handle any more push-ups. Can we just call it a day? It's probably almost dark outside by now."

"If you're fine with losing, Moyashi."

Despite the negativity permeating her sphere of safety, the young woman gives off a half-hearted laugh as she pushes herself to her feet. "I think I can live with myself for another day. I'll beat you up next time."

"Tch."

The pair is silent as they walk through the halls of the Order, their eyes pointedly fixated on the floor ahead of them. For Kanda, this is probably normal; but for Allen, she is struck quiet by her increasing anxiety. She knows that Kanda is not Tyki, and that he could never be; she knows that the Noah of Pleasure is not here, and that he will not dare to come after her so soon after she has escaped. She also knows that for whatever reason, the Earl had allowed her to escape at the last second; whatever he is planning, it involves her not being held captive in the Ark.

But even so…she dreads having to go back to her room and spend another night haunted by the images of her time on the Ark, as well as by the memories of Neah's past life. She is still swarmed by them, and even when she is not consciously thinking of them they somehow leak into her everyday activities. She sees Tyki when he isn't there—what will it take to get rid of him? What does she have to do to have one moment of peace, one moment where she does not have to remember the way he had felt against her? The only time she had not been tormented by him was…

…Last night.

When Kanda had been with her.

Just as the Japanese man turns down the hallway, making his way to his own room, the white-haired girl calls out to him.

"Oi, Kanda…" she says timidly, her fingers stretching the hem of her coat in a subconscious display of her nerves. "Would you mind if I asked you to…spend the night with me again?"

Said man turns back around, staring at her with a raised brow. "You mean like last night?" he asks.

Allen nods.

"Why? I thought that was just because you had a nightmare."

The young woman's anxiety is increased tenfold by Kanda's apparent disapproval. With flaming cheeks, she says, "Yeah, but…it really helped me sleep last night. You being there." Quickly, so as to avoid arousing suspicion, she puts on her best grin. "Never mind. I shouldn't have said anything. I'll be fine." The white-haired girl all but runs toward her own room, eager to be out of the stoic man's sight. Great; now Kanda will never let her live that down. He probably thinks she's weird—well, weirder than she already is—for even asking. Did she think he had suddenly become a different person just because he's been nice to her lately? Well, nice by _his_ standards. He's probably sick of seeing her around by this point—she must be daft to think that he would prefer to spend the night in her room—

Allen is stopped in her tracks when a strong hand grips her forearm, and she cranes her neck to see Kanda standing behind her. Her eyes widen at his sudden proximity.

"Tch," he scoffs, releasing her. "Idiot. What are you running away for? Let's go, then." He breezes past her, leaving the young woman to stand dumbfounded in the hallway as she attempts to process what has just happened.

_What the hell is going on?_

"Are you coming, Moyashi?" Kanda's voice called back to her as he waits in front of her door.

With warm cheeks and a crescent-shaped smile, Allen nods.

Kanda sets Mugen down as soon as she lets them both in, and the white-haired girl immediately turns to face him.

"Um…I'm going to take a shower. You can change in here, if you want. Or bring some clothes back from your room. Or—what?" she stutters when Kanda shoots her a bizarre expression.

"I can take care of myself," he tells her stiffly. "I'm older than you."

"I know that! I just—whatever, Bakanda. Suit yourself." With that, Allen flees to the relative safety of the bathroom.

It feels amazing to bathe after so long, especially considering that she had just spent the better part of eight hours practically sweating to death while training. The warm water seems to wash all of the tension out of her joints and muscles, rinsing the stress out of her body and down the drain to who-knows-where. Knowing that Kanda is behind the door doesn't frighten her or cause her any mental anguish; for the moment, she feels almost…safe.

She just makes sure to avoid any reflective surfaces.

Unfortunately for Allen, as soon as she turns the water off, the cold air rushes back to her body, soaking into her skin and causing her to shiver violently. Courtesy of her quivering hands, it takes her a few minutes to change into her bedclothes. She stays inside for a good few minutes afterwards, now feeling somewhat awkward when she realizes her predicament. She has just invited Kanda into her room—what would Cross think? Her expression sours at the thought.

From outside, Allen hears the audible squeak of old springs. Venturing back into the bedroom, Allen finds Kanda sitting stiffly on the edge of her bed, looking much the same but for the fact that his exorcist coat has been folded and set at the foot of the bed, as have his shoes. He is still wearing a long-sleeved shirt and pants.

"Um…aren't you going to wear pajamas? I know last night was kind of sudden, but do you always wear regular clothes to bed?" she asks.

"This is what I usually wear," he says. "For training and for sleeping. It's easy to move around in."

Despite herself, Allen releases a stifled laugh into the palms of her hands. She knows it had not been intended to be funny, but when Kanda says something so ridiculous with a straight face it makes it extremely difficult to take him seriously. As she had expected, the samurai glares at her as she tries to control her laughter.

"I'm sorry," she quickly says, walking around to the other side of the bed. "Really. I'm not laughing at you."

"Tch. Liar."

The white-haired girl lies down, staring up at Kanda's back as she does so. "I'm serious, Kanda. I just thought it fit your personality really well. Now lie down, will you?"

After a few seconds of uncertainty, he does, and Allen closes her eyes as she feels his relative warmth seep into her bones.

Just as she had hoped, it only takes her mere minutes to be pulled under by the lull of sleep.

* * *

She expects it to be terrifying, but for the first time, it isn't.

The dream she is in right now feels…nice. It's warm and safe, and a slow-burning fire is coiling deep within her abdomen, moving her body with its magnetic pull. Someone is moving inside of her, his arms wrapped around her tenderly as she conceals her face in his throat. Her eyes are shut tight, allowing her body to be entirely consumed by the sensations surrounding her.

Nails drag themselves down his bare back, nearly breaking the skin as he thrusts into her again and again, his movements unhurried and languid. His breath is warm on the back of her ear, his lips are soft as they caress the hollow of her throat. She sighs against him, losing herself in his smoldering touch.

" _Allen_ ," he purrs into her ear.

She freezes, going rigid as the man pulls away to look down at her.

Tyki Mikk stares at her with taunting golden eyes, and beneath the initial layer of shock and horror, Allen can feel herself slipping rapidly into a nightmare.

* * *

When she comes to, she is being pinned down, and the room around her is shrouded in darkness. For a horrifying moment, the white-haired girl believes that her dream had been real, and she squirms fiercely against the calloused hands that are pinning her to the mattress.

" _No! No! Stop it! Let go of me!"_ she yells into the darkness. The pressure on her arms does not lessen. _Not again! Please…after everything, just leave me alone. Let me forget…I want to forget._

_What am I supposed to do?_

She nearly exhausts her body in trying to get away, but all to no avail; the man holding her refuses to release her, and although he isn't hurting her, the young woman knows that what comes next will be far worse than a mere beating. She begins to struggle harder.

Then, she abruptly halts her frantic movements when the person above her speaks.

"Moyashi, calm the fuck down! What's wrong with you?"

 _Kanda_. She stops fighting the man who is pinning her, relief washing over her when she realizes that she has no reason to be afraid. Kanda will not hurt her—he's here to make sure that she's okay.

"Kanda…" she whispers, the relief palpable in her voice. "…it's you…"

"Of course it's me, idiot. Who else would it be?"

No one, she knows—because Tyki isn't here anymore. He isn't here…he isn't the one holding her, the one victimizing her… He isn't here, and yet he is, because she cannot get him out of her head. She cannot banish the memories of how he made her feel, and she has no idea how to…

And then, like a burst of insight, it occurs to her. The only way to get the memories of the Noah of Pleasure out of her mind—the sinful feelings he had inflicted upon her—is to replace them with something else, to fill the void that they have left behind in her heart.

In the darkness, Allen can barely see the finer features of Kanda's face, but she can see his eyes; the way he is staring at her in confusion and faint worry, the way his long dark hair falls over the both of them like a curtain.

"Moyashi? What are you staring at?"

She doesn't answer him—not in words, at least. Without saying a thing, the white-haired girl leans upwards, bringing her mouth to his in a gentle kiss.

Though he doesn't pull away from her, Kanda stiffens against her mouth, his hands tightening their grip on her arms. He probably expects her to pull away at some point, but Allen has other plans in mind. She does not listen to her rational mind as she prods the samurai's lips with her tongue; she only listens to the pain in her heart—and the pain in her heart is telling her to do something, _anything_ , to rid herself of all the times she had been with Tyki Mikk.

When Kanda still does not respond, Allen sighs against him, pushing his arms off of her and wrapping her own around his back. She tugs at the thin material of his shirt, sliding her lips across his jawline and up to his earlobe. He shivers as her lips tease the flesh of his ear.

" _Kanda_ ," she says breathily into his ear, and the stoic man stiffens even more. Quickly, as though to assuage any nerves he might have, her palms make rhythmic patterns into the tense muscles of his back. He relaxes against her somewhat, but it's obvious that he is still unsure of how to respond.

Finally, the white-haired girl grows tired of waiting. She brings one hand to the back of his neck, pulling his head down toward her and reconnecting their lips. After a few seconds, he seems to get the message—either that, or he decides to give in to her advances. Though Allen can sense the nerves radiating off of him, he reciprocates, attaching his own lips to her neck. Warmth seeps into her veins, tingling in her scalp as he places open-mouthed kisses over her pulse point.

She runs her hands across his back, moving upwards and threading her fingers through his dark hair. His hair is long, she notices; not short. It is straight and silky, rather than curly. As Allen takes note of the differences, what she is doing suddenly feels off—wrong.

But at the same time, it makes her feel better than she had been in a long time.

Kanda pauses, hesitating for a moment before reattaching their lips. Her tongue seeks out his, eagerly entwining with it as she bends her knees, spreading her legs beneath him.

The Japanese man freezes, the heat in his cheeks deepening; still, he resumes the kiss with fervor. He hesitates again when the young woman begins to peel off her shirt, using her other hand to slide off her shorts.

"Moyashi," he objects, breaking away to look down at her. "What are you—"

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees her. Allen can plainly see his flustered expression, even in the dim light that seeps through the crack beneath the door. His cheeks are stained rouge, which is no surprise considering her state of undress. Her shorts and underwear are tangled around her knees, and her shirt is pushed up almost past her breasts. Kanda, for his part, looks as though he is close to choking.

With a nervous smile, Allen sits up, easily discarding the rest of her clothing and pressing her body against his. She wraps her arms around him again, the tips of her fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"I've wanted this for a long time," she says in a soft whisper, hearing his breath audibly hitch. "Please, Kanda?"

It isn't a complete lie; she has wanted to forget Tyki since the second time she had met him—and this is the closest she's come to doing so. So, yes—she has wanted this for a long time, but Kanda doesn't need to know the specifics. If he is willing to grant her this request, then the white-haired girl will be satisfied.

Without a verbal reply, Kanda relents. He allows her to remove his shirt and toss it to the side with her own garments. His pants come off next, as do his shorts, and in no time the pair's hands and mouths are sliding over any bare skin they can reach.

Kanda is sitting upright, with Allen bowing beneath the intensity of his kiss. He caresses her face, placing the other hand on her hip as he coaxes her to lie back down. She follows his lead, bending her knees and splaying her legs on either side of his body. The young woman pulls him close to her, as close as is humanly possible, feeling lost only when she comes to realize that it can never be close enough. But she says nothing; she does not voice her disappointment, only her pleasure, as the sensation of Kanda's skin sliding against hers causes her toes to curl.

His lips latch onto her neck once again, gently sucking on the sensitive skin as his hands rub soothing circles into her hip.

When he enters her, Allen feels nothing but relief as pleasure radiates throughout her center. She sighs loudly against his shoulder, burying her face in his warm skin as she allows herself to be taken away from the pain that haunts her.

Right now, everything seems so far away…

"Are you okay?" Kanda says in a breathless voice, pulling her back to Earth and out of the heavenly daze she had been caught in. His nose presses into her cheek, and there is a tinge of concern in his eyes as he gazes at her.

 _He thinks I'm a virgin…_ "Yes," she breathes against him. "Thank you."

At her reassurance, he begins to move, and Allen feels herself being lifted higher and higher, away from this room and the Order and the war that she has been caught up in by the cruel hands of fate. She separates her mind from her body, leaving behind her continuous suffering as Kanda brings her to a world that, for the first time in months, is free of pain. It is void of suffering, and though this is radically better than being tortured by her traumatic memories, the white-haired girl knows that this euphoria is temporary—and it comes at a price.

Guilt. Guilt for using Kanda as a vent for her sorrow—because although she cares deeply for him, she feels dirty for doing this to him, for seducing him when she still has not told him the truth about what had happened to her.

But she'll take it—she'll take the guilt over the terror any day, because if taking advantage of someone else is considered selfish, then right now Allen is the most selfish person in the world.

Kanda goes slowly as he reenters her, and Allen sincerely appreciates his efforts. He is being kind to her, and bursts of bliss run through her with every motion. She repeatedly moans against his shoulder, whereas the stoic man stifles his groans in the skin of her neck. His hands are rough and calloused, but he still touches her softly, running them across her breasts and stomach and causing the young woman's heart to flutter in her chest.

For a single moment, it is perfect.

Her climax hits her suddenly, and to her surprise, before Kanda's. Allen releases a breathless, drawn-out moan, her body stiffening and shaking in Kanda's arms like a leaf. She tightens around him, her back arching and toes curling as bliss washes over her. She goes limp a few moments later, her hair caked to her temples with sweat.

With her eyes closed, she only feels Kanda slip out of her, rolling to the side and wrapping an arm around her waist.

Confused, she cranes her neck to see him. "Kanda…did you…?"

"No," he tells her bluntly, his voice sounding strained.

She stares at him, dumbfounded as he simply turns over onto his side and pulls her close to him. The white-haired girl can feel him against her, still erect but refusing to let her out of his grasp.

"Why not? I can—"

"Forget it," he says. "You already did, and I don't want to get you pregnant. I'll take care of it."

"Kanda…" she starts, her eyes filling with tears. _  
_

"Just shut up and go to sleep."

Of course, she doesn't tell him the truth. It would only ruin the moment, and probably cause him to fly into a rage. She can't handle that right now. So she says nothing, merely allowing Kanda to embrace her as she falls into a deep sleep.

And, as she had expected, he is blissfully oblivious to her anguish as tears roll down her cheeks, soaking into the pillow beneath her.


	25. A Telling of Truth

It's not the first time, and it won't be the last; she is still crying when she wakes, or perhaps she merely starts at the very moment she is thrust back into consciousness. The worst of her negative emotions do have a tendency to visit her when she is in the blurred border between sleep and wakefulness, after all. At any rate, it's extremely difficult to tell, what with the drowsy fog that hangs over her head like a looming cloud. She is not sure if she had already been in the throes of misery, for her dreams throughout most of last night had been blissfully blank.

One thing that Allen  _is_  certain of, however, is that although her sleep last night had been relatively undisturbed, she had made a terrible mistake in order to make it so.

Guilt weighs heavily on the white-haired girl's mind as she allows herself to be held passively in Kanda's embrace, his warm chest molding to the curve of her back. His hand is lying flat against her bare stomach, his arm dangling in the crook of her hip. His face is buried in her hair, and Allen can feel every exhale on the back of her neck.

… _What have I done?_

Last night seems like nothing more than another bizarre dream, one in which she had once again found a way to sabotage her life more than it already is. Kanda will hate her once he finds out the truth of her decision last night—she is sure of it, just as she is sure that he will figure out her lie. She cannot hide the pregnancy forever, and there is no way that he will think the baby is his. Besides, who's to say that the samurai even wants her on a deeper emotional level in the first place? With the way she had acted last night, Allen is certain that anyone would have given in. Perhaps this had merely been an outlet to him, and her emotional turmoil will only compel a harsh rejection from the stoic man. She would not put it past him…

Or what if, even worse…what if Kanda  _does_  want her to be more than a mere vent for his frustration? What will he think of her when he learns the truth? He could not possibly hate her any more than she already hates herself—but then again, fate always does seem to enjoy finding new ways of proving her wrong.

The young woman tries to stifle her sobs as she allows her misery to wash over her, placing her hand over her mouth so as to avoid making any noise. Gently, so she will not rouse the man sleeping behind her, Allen disentangles her limbs from his, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around her body so as to cover her chest. She makes sure that Kanda is still covered by the comforter before inching away.

She sits on the edge of the bed, her shoulders shaking as she allows the self-effacement and guilt to flow freely from her eyes. The hatred she has for herself in this moment is well-deserved, she thinks—with all of the times she had told herself that she's fine, that she can handle herself, that she will get better even with her memories still haunting her…in spite of all of that, everything she has done in the past few days have been nothing but mistakes.

She had not been ready to talk to Leverrier, yet she had done so anyway because of her stubborn pride. Training is necessary, yet going over her form with Kanda had only led to her projecting predatory intentions onto him. And inviting him into her room, no matter how innocent her intent had been, had been nothing but a horrible mistake. All of them had been mistakes—mistakes that will hurt not only herself, but the people she cares about most, Kanda in particular.

What is she going to do? How is she going to explain all of this to him? Will he listen to her, or will he merely storm out? And how on Earth will she explain this situation to Cross?

Allen freezes in panic as she hears the samurai shifting behind her, and she tries frantically to wipe her eyes dry and halt her sobs.

"Moyashi?"

The white-haired girl squeezes her eyes shut tightly, biting down on her fist as the Japanese man appears beside her. Allen reflexively turns away from him, hiding her face from his sight.

"What are you doing?" he asks her, irritation lacing his voice.

"Nothing," she whispers, still refusing to look back at him.

Kanda sighs, and before she can tell him to stop, he makes a move to pull her face back toward his.

"No," she objects, pulling her face away, a pulse of fear going up her spine.

However, he still manages to catch a glimpse of her tear-stained cheeks and swollen eyes, and his attitude takes an abrupt shift. "What happened?" he demands, leaning back on the bed so as to allow her some semblance of privacy. "Another nightmare?"

At this, the young woman releases another sob—but it's not because he is wrong. She sobs because although Kanda had meant it in a way different than how she perceives it, the question still strikes a chord within her. Her life has begun to morph into one long nightmare, one that is never-ending and populated by endless visions of the monsters that are trying to tear her apart.

Only now, Allen is beginning to realize, one of those monsters may very well be herself.

* * *

The pair goes to the cafeteria after enough time has passed for Allen's tears to subside. A sixth sense tells the young woman that Kanda is and has been wary of her behavior since she came out of the bathroom after getting dressed; he keeps shooting her sideways glances out of the corner of his eye.

The white-haired girl notices him doing it again as he goes to sit down at a table with his soba, and he remains apparently unconvinced of her calm state even after watching her converse enthusiastically with Jerry.

Allen picks at her food, unnerved by the Japanese man's near-constant stare. Finally, she decides to simply tune out his disconcerting eyes and begins to dig into her platters of food with vigor, practically inhaling the varieties of meat and appetizers she had requested.

Kanda pauses for a moment to watch her, his expression caught between disgust and minor relief. "At least you're eating normally again," he concurs. "It even looks like you're eating more than usual. I shouldn't be surprised."

Allen panics briefly at his second statement, but she logically realizes that he cannot possibly know that she's pregnant. She does scowl at him in her usual playful manner, however. "At least I have some variety in my meals, Bakanda," she chastises him. "I don't know how you can survive on one type of food for this long. Isn't it bad for your body to eat only soba?"

"Not for me," he says sharply, taking another bite of his chosen meal.

"What?" Allen bursts out, nearly spitting out the food that is in her mouth. "That's ridiculous! Just because you're an exorcist doesn't mean that you're superhuman. You should take better care of yourself, you know."

"Tch. You're such a hypocrite that I won't even bother to justify myself to you. Do you want me to become a glutton like you? Give me a break, idiot Moyashi."

"If I'm an idiot, Kanda, then so are you. Otherwise you wouldn't be eating with me right now, would you?"

The stoic man flushes at her accusation, pausing with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth. He stares at her indignantly, his eyes narrowed with irritation—and something else, as well. "I'm eating with you right now because I—" Kanda stops talking before the words can leave the safety of his mouth, and the muscles in his jaw clench so tightly that Allen worries for a moment that he will break his teeth.

"Because what?" Allen asks him, pausing in the middle of her meal as well.

The Japanese man pointedly breaks eye contact with her, returning to his food with an abrupt flick of his wrist. "Tch. Nothing," he mutters, ignoring the white-haired girl's heated stare. "Eat your food."

Though she rolls her eyes and grins at his brusque command, Allen silently fears what he had been about to tell her. She is afraid of his answer, and all at once the young woman is reminded of her anxiety from earlier. Though their banter had managed to distract her for a moment, she once again recalls her worry over how Kanda will perceive her in the wake of last night. No comment had been made this morning by either of them regarding the events of the night before, but the samurai's intense stares tell her that he most definitely has the topic on his mind.

And, of course, so does she.

"Kanda—"

" _Allen-chan_!"

The young woman freezes as someone calls her name, and she glances behind her to find the source of the sound—only to have the air forced from her lungs as said person crashes into her, wrapping Allen in a full-body hug that almost causes her to fall face-first into her food. Dark hair obscures her vision, and the unmistakable scent of flowers reaches her nostrils, clueing her in as to the identity of the person smothering her.

"Hi there, Lenalee," the white-haired girl whispers, feeling the other girl's tears as they soak through the thick fabric of her exorcist coat. Allen looks over the Chinese girl's shoulder to see another familiar face; Lavi saunters over to their table a few seconds later, donning his usual cocky smile and flashing a peace sign at Kanda and Allen.

"What's up, guys?" he says, taking a seat beside Allen and beaming brightly at her. "Fancy seeing you here, Allen."

Contrary to Lavi's casual tone, Lenalee cannot seem to stop sobbing into her shoulder. "We were so worried," the short-haired girl says into Allen's ear, gripping the young woman tighter. "Komui called us during our mission and said that you had been found. I almost couldn't believe it, but I never gave up hope that you'd come back. We got rid of the Akuma and found the Innocence as soon as we could, but it still felt like years before we got to come back. The journey was nerve-wracking. I was so worried, and now I'm just so relieved…"

"Me, too," Lavi chimes in. "I kept wondering whether or not your hair would be longer, and I was right," the redhead adds on, wincing when Lenalee delivers a harsh slap upside his head. "Hey! Why are ya hitting me, Lena? I was just trying to lighten the mood! You can't hit a man for doing that!"

"I'm sorry," the other girl says, tightening her one-handed grip on Allen.

"Jeez," the redhead gripes, rubbing the back of his skull. "You're going to give me a concussion one of these days."

"And you'll deserve it, baka usagi," Kanda growls, taking another bite of soba. "Now stop being an ass."

"Fine! You guys win, okay?" Lavi relents, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. He turns to face Allen with a goofy smile on his face. "I really am glad to see that you're okay, Allen. I've been stuck with these two and the old panda for way too long. None of them are any fun."

The white-haired girl grins back at him, grimacing in slight pain when she realizes that she is practically being asphyxiated by Lenalee's arm. "I'm glad to see you too, Lavi," she tells him.

"Course ya are. I'm awesome—hey, Lenalee, wanna stop hogging Allen now? I'm pretty sure that you're choking the poor girl."

All of them—save Kanda, of course—giggle at the redhead's melodramatic tone of voice, and the Chinese girl proceeds to ask Allen a barrage of questions after releasing her.

"How are you feeling, Allen-chan? Are you okay being back at the Order?"

The young woman pushes around the food that is on her plate, not overly eager to bring up her internal conflict right now. "I've been okay—I feel a lot better now that I'm back home."

The cute girl furrows her brows in concern, obviously seeing through Allen's façade of contentment. She places her hand over the other girl's. "Are you sure? I mean, I know that Central can be hard to deal with—especially Leverrier, but you should know that none of the people who work here think badly of you. We're just glad to have you back. I hope the Inspector hasn't been bothering you too much."

"Drop it, Lenalee," Kanda interrupts, his voice firm. "She doesn't want to talk about it."

The Chinese girl sends Kanda a blank stare; it quickly morphs into guilt when she scrutinizes the expression on the white-haired girl's face. Allen is staring into her plate, her jaw stiff and fingers stiffer as she practically bends the fork with her grip. Lenalee must see the truth of the samurai's words in her face, for she instantly tries to backtrack from her earlier statement. She rubs Allen's arm in what is intended to be a soothing gesture.

"I'm sorry, Allen-chan," she says, her tone apologetic and timid. "I had no idea you were so upset. Just ignore Lavi and I, okay? We only wanted to help."

"Yeah, Moyashi-chan," Lavi adds on, apparently not taking a hint from Kanda's hateful glare. "We can beat up that Inspector for you if you want—"

"Idiot!"

"Baka usagi!"

Despite Lenalee and Kanda's angry exclamations, Allen knows that the redhead is only trying to lighten the mood in his characteristic fashion—and in a way, it does help. It convinces her for a brief moment that everything is normal; however, once the novelty wears off, the young woman is only made to feel worse by his and Lenalee's attempts at comforting her.

Neither of them will understand, even if she were to try to explain. Without telling them what had happened to her in its gruesome entirety, Allen does not believe for a second that they will be able to make her feel better—or perhaps she is just being cynical. Either way, she really does  _not_ want to come clean about her experience. Not here; not under these circumstances. And while the prospect of no one else ever finding out is appealing, Allen knows that she will only be able to shoulder the burden for so long; even right now, she is tempted to blurt it out in the middle of the cafeteria, just to get it off of her chest.

Yet, at the same time, she is fearful of doing so. She fears having to relive the events in her mind, and having them creep out from the shadows in order to torment her again. She fears that her secret will be leaked to others in the Order, and that she will be condemned as a harlot or even worse, pitied. She fears being construed as weak and pathetic—and above all else, she fears being taken away by Central, having her body poked and prodded. She fears what will happen to her if her pregnancy is revealed.  _Not if_ , she reminds herself,  _when_. It is only a matter of time.

Besides, the young woman does not believe that either Lavi or Lenalee could comprehend her predicament. So she doesn't say anything; she merely nods her head in passive agreement, shooting Lavi a timid "Thank you" for his unorthodox offer—because that is what anyone else would do. Yes, she is much safer this way. As long as no one questions her too deeply, or asks her how she feels over and over, she will continue to function as normally as possible…and think of the consequences of her and Kanda's actions later.

But then, as Allen lifts another bite of food to her mouth, something strange happens. Intense pain suddenly shoots through her body, concentrating in her forehead and skull as well as in the pit of her stomach. Panic lances through her as she registers the agony coiling in her abdomen, and she gasps. She drops the fork in her hand, and the booming sound of metal striking porcelain reverberates throughout the cafeteria. Heads turn immediately in her direction, but Allen completely disregards them. She has other more pressing issues on her mind.

 _What…what's wrong with me?_  She closes her eyes, trying in vain to block out the noises that are all around her; out of nowhere, everything seems so loud, so obnoxious; the sounds fill her with an overwhelming urge to  _move_ , to run out of the room as fast as possible before she decides to silence the mindless chatter herself.

"Allen-chan?"

"Moyashi?"

At the sound of Kanda's voice, Allen gives into her urge. She leaves her food behind at the table, and walks away as fast as she can without attracting more attention. She must be paranoid, but it seems as though people are staring at her as she passes them. Even so, she tries to ignore them; all that is on her mind is the prospect of escape. Nothing else breaks through her haze, and even Lenalee's worried cries become lost to the chaotic din.

Allen takes in a deep gulp of air as soon as she gets outside, leaning against the wall in relief. Though the pain is still ringing between her temples and belly, she is able to relax somewhat now that there is no one around to stare at her.

 _What's wrong with me?_  she asks herself again. She places a hand against her forehead, feeling her overheated skin and the sweat that accompanies it; it feels as though she has a fever, despite the fact that her diagnosis of being sick had been fabricated.

 _Is there actually something wrong with me? With the fetus? Or…could it just be the Noah awakening?_  The last possibility doesn't make sense. If this pain is the result of her awakening as the Fourteenth, then why is she feeling pain in her abdomen? Perhaps there is merely something wrong with the baby…and for the life of her, Allen cannot decide if this is a good thing or bad.

"Excuse me? Miss Walker?"

Allen nearly jumps out of her skin as someone comes up behind her, and she whips around in fright. The man holds his hands up as though proving his innocence, and the white-haired girl allows herself to relax. His hands immediately return to their previous position, held folded behind his body as though he has been trained to serve royalty. He appears to be benign, if a bit intense; he has long blonde hair fashioned in a braid, and although he is dressed in the unmistakable manner of someone from Central, Allen does not find him to be as off-putting as Leverrier. Perhaps she is biased because of the harmless-looking spots on his forehead, but she does not sense any ill intent coming from him.

She still eyes him suspiciously, though, as she is wary of what he wants from her.

"I apologize for startling you," he says calmly, straightening his already rigid posture. "It was not my intention."

"That's okay…" she relents, brushing the hair out of her eyes. "…Who are you, though?"

Then, to the white-haired girl's surprise, he actually  _bows_  to her. Allen gapes at the unknown man, appalled that someone from Central is actually being respectful towards her while knowing who she is. Just what kind of game is this man playing?

"My name is Howard Link. I am one of Inspector Leverrier's most trusted subordinates and a servant of the Black Order. I usually work at Central, but I have been asked by the Inspector to come here."

"Why?"

"I have been told to accompany you wherever you go, Miss Walker—except, of course, for bathrooms, although I will remain outside the door—and to ensure that you are kept safe at all times."

" _What?"_  Her mind is going a mile a minute. Leverrier had assigned her a  _bodyguard_? She has never heard something so…odd. Nothing about this situation sits right with her; for some reason, she does not feel as though she is getting the full story. "Why would Leverrier do that?"

"It is because of your recent capture by the Noah Clan. Although you have returned to us safe and seemingly healthy, the Inspector is still concerned that the Noah will come after you again. He does not want to take any chances."

Allen narrows her eyes at the man. "With all due respect, Mr. Link, I am an exorcist. I can take care of myself now that I have recovered…and I can also clearly see that you aren't telling me everything. Why else is Leverrier assigning you to me?"

"…I suppose I may as well tell you. In case the Noah have done anything to you, or manipulated you somehow, Central wants me to be here in order to keep an eye on you. If I see anything suspicious, I have a specialized button on my belt that will allow me to call for help immediately. I have also been trained in combat and in the use of all the latest technology the Order's scientists have to offer. Rest assured, you are in good hands."

Allen has no idea what to say. This has certainly come out of nowhere…shouldn't she have been given advance warning before she was assigned a…bodyguard? "Um…thank you for the offer, Mr. Link, but I really don't need a bodyguard. I am perfectly fine on my own."

"If you are fine, then you should not worry about me being around you. Please just cooperate, Miss Walker. It will make this much easier."

The white-haired girl opens her mouth to contradict him once more, but quickly gives up the effort. It would only make her look more suspicious. "…Fine. I'll cooperate. I have no reason not to."

Link nods at her. "Very well, then."

"Who the hell are you?"

Allen does not need to look behind Link to know that it is Kanda who has spoken. Link himself turns around at the sound of the samurai's voice, and delivers a small bow to him as well.

"I am Howard Link. Miss Walker has been assigned to me as my charge."

Kanda's eyes practically bulge out of his head. "What are you talking about?"

"I was watching the four of you in the cafeteria," Link says. "You are Kanda Yuu, correct?"

"So what if I am? Why should I have to answer to you? And what the hell are you talking about when you say the Moyashi's your  _charge_?"

"Apparently Leverrier assigned him to me. He's supposed to come with me wherever I go," Allen adds. "Um, except for the bathroom, I suppose."

Kanda looks as outraged as she had expected, but the tirade she knows is coming is cut off by the unfortunate arrival of a fourth party.

"Yes, I did assign him to you, Miss Walker. I'm glad to see that you've already met."

Allen's skin crawls as Leverrier approaches the trio, a pleased grin on his face. His familiar disturbing aura is enhanced by the smile, and combined with his imposing stature it nearly makes her weak in the knees.

"Um, yes," she says, swallowing dryly. "I was debating whether or not I should come talk to  _you_  about this, actually."

"There is no need," Leverrier affirms. "As I'm sure Link has explained to you, he will be staying in your room—in separate beds, of course—and accompanying you wherever you go. It shouldn't be a problem, correct?"

"…No."

Just as she had expected, unfortunately, Kanda pounces on the Inspector at the first chance he gets. "Why wouldn't it be a problem?" he spits at the older man, the vein in his forehead nearly bursting out of his skin. "She doesn't need your lackeys around, Leverrier. We'd all be better off if Central got out of our hair, anyway."

"Kanda!" the young woman snaps, mortified by his rudeness. "Give it a rest, okay? I already agreed to it. It's not a big deal." It  _is_  a big deal, but for propriety's sake (and her own) she is going to act as though it isn't.

And she hopes beyond hope that the Japanese man will learn to do the same.

Kanda stares at her as though she's grown a second head, but merely  _tsks_  in acknowledgment. "Whatever." He saunters away from them, casting one last dirty look at Leverrier before doing so.

"What a rude man," Leverrier mumbles under his breath as the samurai turns the corner. "You should be wary of him, Miss Walker. He may just end up losing his temper one of these days."

Allen bites her tongue so as not to further offend the Inspector, sending him a stiff smile instead. "I'll take your advice to heart, Inspector—but trust me, Kanda Yuu is a good man."

Leverrier mutters under his breath as he walks away, leaving Allen alone with Link. She sighs in relief, turning back to face the stranger with an expression that she hopes is welcoming.

She can work with this…for now.

* * *

The main issue with having Link sleep in her room, she discovers, is that because of it, Allen cannot. She tries, hoping at first that his presence will at least offer some semblance of comfort or security. It has to be better than sleeping alone, right?

Wrong.

Leverrier's assurances do not reassure her in the slightest—instead, the man's very nature had seemed to invalidate his words. The idea of trusting him with her life sets off an automatic warning alarm in her head.

The young woman sighs, rolling over in her bed as sleep continues to evade her. It's probably for the best, anyway. Had Link not been present, she is certain that she would have asked for Kanda to stay with her again—and with the events of last night hanging over her head, she worries about what would have happened if he had. Nothing good, certainly. Allen had sensed his desire to say something about it all day from his intense stares, and he had never gotten the chance.

Yet the white-haired girl knows he will find one. Kanda is as stubborn as an ox; if he wants to talk to her, then she knows that he will figure out a way to do it.

Out of nowhere, a barely-perceptible scratch on the door causes her to go rigid beneath her covers.

 _Someone's at the door?_  In the darkness, Allen can see two shadows obscuring part of the bright crack beneath the door, as well as hear the shuffling of footsteps. She shivers in her skin; at this time of night, everything around her is perceived as hostile. Finally, she gathers her wits enough to push the blankets off, and creeps silently to the door. In the dimly lit room, she can barely see the outline of a piece of parchment that has been slipped through the crack in the door, and of the single sentence that decorates it.

_Come outside._

Allen sighs in relief as she recognizes the scratchy penmanship as Kanda's, and at the same time feels a wave of anxiety wash over her. Still…she finds that she cannot ignore him.

Allen quickly grabs her exorcist coat from the desk chair and slips it on over her bedclothes. The young woman takes one look back at the still-sleeping Link, and opens the door as quietly as she can. She is careful not to make a sound as she turns around, catching sight of the silhouette that is leaning against the wall behind her. Allen tries to regain control over her rapidly beating heart, swallowing a thick layer of saliva as she nods at him.

She can see his ponytail in the darkness; it waves back and forth as Kanda nods back at her. He makes a  _come hither_  motion with his hand as he starts to walk down the hallway.

Though she is slightly put off by his arrogance, Allen follows him regardless. They walk past a series of old doors, ones that the white-haired girl has seen in passing but has never wandered into. She even recognizes the one he finally stops at, and knows that it is one of Headquarter's perpetually empty rooms. Unease creeps over her; why is he taking her here?

Then it occurs to her—he probably wants to talk about what had happened between them last night in private, away from prying eyes. She had figured that this visit was related, but she had still hoped otherwise. A sudden urge to run away nearly overtakes her, but she shoves it aside for the moment. No doubt Kanda would simply follow her, and she doesn't want to cause any commotion that could possibly wake up Link.

"Kanda?" Allen whispers as the samurai lights a candle, illuminating the room with a warm glow. "What's going on? Why did you wake me up?"

"Tch," he scoffs, whipping around to face her. "Why do you think, Moyashi? You need to explain something to me."

"In here?" Looking around, the young woman wrinkles her nose in distaste. Although the room does not smell awful, it certainly looks it. It is empty, save for an old desk and a chair with a crooked leg, both replete with several layers of dust. The rusted candleholder gleams from the table's surface, revealing the peeling paint and the large portrait that has been almost completely covered by dust as well. The face of the picture's subject cannot even be made out. Perhaps someone had lived here a long time ago, but since then the bed has been removed—either placed into another room or discarded. Either way, Allen figures that no one will look for the two of them in here, if anyone were to discover them missing.

"Yes, in here," Kanda answers. "Why else would I ask you to follow me?"

The white-haired girl sighs, guilt gnawing its way through her stomach. "Listen, Kanda…I know you want to talk, but I'm really tired right now. I haven't been sleeping well lately, as you know, so I should go back to bed before Link wakes up. Maybe tomorrow—"

Kanda grabs her forearm just as she makes to walk away, causing the young woman to stiffen in surprise. She pales when she catches a glimpse of his face, the unusually stoic features of which have become stiff and stressed.

"Don't try to run away again, idiot," he tells her. "You owe me an explanation. Why did you…you know…last night?"

This is it; the moment she had been fearing all day. It had come sooner than she had wanted or been prepared for, just as everything else did. "I already told you," she whispers. "I wanted to for a long time…" Kanda's deathly strong grip relaxes, and Allen pulls her arm back to her side.

"So…you're saying that you've been pining after me for that long?" Kanda asks, his tone skeptical and—dare she say it—hopeful at the same time. It only causes the guilt to claw harder at her heart.

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath as she gathers up the courage to tell him the truth. "Kanda…I really do care about you. A lot…you've been nothing but loyal and—well, maybe not always kind, but at least a good friend. I wanted to let you know that—"

The white-haired girl is cut off by the sensation of lips being pressed against her own, and her eyes fly open to see Kanda's face an inch from hers. She stands stock-still as his mouth pushes fiercely against hers, and both his desperation and his relief is conveyed in the kiss.

It makes her feel awful, but she does nothing to stop him.

He pulls away after a few seconds, his face bright red. She is sure that her own face must be maroon, and her eyes are wide as she tries to process what has just happened.

"Kanda…"

"It might not seem like it," he begins, glaring intensely at the floor, "but you aren't always a total pain in the ass, Moyashi. Sometimes I actually find your company more than bearable. What happened last night…even though it makes me feel like an idiot to admit it…I don't want that to be the last time."

Allen is at once floored and horrified; she wonders if she had heard him correctly, or if her ears are deceiving her. Though she sincerely hopes that it's the latter, the sinking feeling in her gut tells her that her ears are, in fact, accurate.

 _Oh, no…_ She tries to smile at him, but the white-haired girl is convinced that it probably comes across as more tragic than anything else. His eyes return to her face when she doesn't answer, and Allen finds herself at a loss for words. She cannot recall a time when Kanda Yuu had appeared more vulnerable, except for when Tyki had attacked Headquarters; right now, the most she can force out is a feeble utterance of his name.

"Kanda?"

Without another word, he kisses her again. The white-haired girl is caught off guard by his hasty action, and her hands automatically fly up to grip the front of his coat. Allen gasps as he spins her around, pressing her back against the wall behind him.

Apparently, he interprets her surprise as reciprocation, for he takes this opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth.

 _This isn't right,_  she thinks, unease crawling up her spine.  _We shouldn't be doing this. I can't lead him on…_ But leading him on is the one faux pas she doesn't want to come clean about.

However, this soon becomes the last thing on her mind when a sense of being suffocated takes root. From this angle, Allen feels as though she is being boxed in by the samurai. His arms are around her, gripping her lower back and arm as he puts more force into the kiss. Suddenly, the room feels much smaller, as though the walls are shrinking around her.

"Kanda," she says breathlessly as he cuts off the kiss, his lips descending to her jawline.  _Stop._  For some reason, the single command will not leave her mouth. She feels as though she is being choked, her airways cut off by some invisible force.

_Just like with Tyki._

She can hardly breathe; irrational fear has paralyzed her limbs. The white-haired girl begins to hyperventilate, her chest rising and falling as panic seizes her.

" _Kanda_!" With a brief burst of desperation, Allen shoves him away from her—too hard, she thinks as he stumbles a few feet away.

Kanda stares at her in shock, and the young woman cannot bear to meet his eyes as she slides down the wall, landing gracelessly on her backside. She can still see him out of the corner of her eye, however; he looks more appalled than angry.

"I'm sorry," she exhales, her hand settling over her heart. "It's not your fault…" Logically, she knows that she has no reason to fear Kanda—but for a split second, she had been reminded of all the other times her attempts at resistance had been ignored and met with scorn.

She has no wish to relive them.

"What are you talking about?" Kanda says, apparently unhinged by her behavior. "What's wrong with you?"

Allen closes her eyes as a single tear rolls down her cheek; she knows that it's now or never, for she will never be able to gather the courage to tell him again. "Nothing…well, a lot, actually…"

Kanda stares down at her with furrowed brows and a worried expression. "Moyashi…what happened to you while you were gone?"

On second thought, should she even bother saying anything? She wants to—she really does, as keeping this a secret is probably doing more harm than good—but she is still afraid of what might happen if she is to take that chance. Will he think differently of her? Probably, she reasons; there is a very negative social stigma surrounding those in her situation, but will Kanda think ill of her for it? Will he understand?

Will he try to? She decides that the answer is maybe; he will try to understand, but he won't be able to. However, that doesn't change the fact that right now, aside from Cross, Kanda is the closest person in her life.

"Tyki Mikk," she whispers. Kanda goes rigid at the mention of the Noah's name.

"What about him?" he asks, and his tone becomes enraged. "What did he do?"

She sighs, folding her hands in her lap and meeting Kanda's dark eyes with her watery ones. "Please don't make me say it…you know, Kanda. You have to know…"

Kanda stares at her confusedly, his expression awash with uncertainty; then, after a few seconds of thought, his features darken considerably, and his eyes glaze over with a level of anger that she has never seen before in the young man.

And in that instant, she is certain that he knows.


	26. A Harbinger of Doom

Allen hates the ensuing silence; she hates it even more than the echoes of Kanda's rage, a fact that she had previously believed to be impossible. There is nothing more disarming than an angry Kanda, after all; a brief glance of his intense glare had been more than enough to send many brave Finders running for the hills. The only reason that the white-haired girl is courageous enough to stand up to him when he enters one of his moods is because she is accustomed to it—and she knows, of course, that he will never do anything to directly harm her.

She also knows that it is merely a part of his bizarre personality. Kanda's extroverted anger is a fundamental aspect of who he is; he does not react to certain stimuli in the moderate way that most others do. He has strong emotions, though he tries to rein most of them in—and as much as his outbursts of rage signal his tumultuous state of being, they are also a strong indicator of his healthy state of mind. If something she says or does pisses off Kanda, it can be considered a normal reaction, and nothing to be worried about.

However, when he falls silent after having been told such news as what Tyki had done to her…this is a Kanda whom the white-haired girl had never expected to meet. It unhinges her, makes her uneasy, because she has never seen the samurai go so rigid before. His bangs are obscuring his eyes, preventing her from seeing the emotion in them—if there is any to be seen. She almost doesn't want to look, anxious about what those eyes will tell her—if there will be judgment in them, or if there will be pity.

She doesn't think that she is well equipped to handle either.

Fortunately for her frazzled nerves, the imposing quietude is broken only a few seconds later, by Kanda himself.

"What are you saying?" His voice is deathly quiet, but she can hear that it is quivering with deep-seated ire. Allen is at least thankful that he is trying to hide his anger from her; perhaps he knows that she is in no position to deal with it right now. "That Tyki Mikk…that he…"

The white-haired girl closes her eyes, fearing the taboo word that she knows he is about to say.

"…that he _raped_ you?"

The young woman reflexively flinches at the harshness with which Kanda says the word; she hates the way it sounds, the way it seems to reverberate in her mind for a few minutes before it fades away. But still, it remains there, echoing in the back of her head in a constant reminder of what her life has become. It sounds foreign on Kanda's tongue, and it grates on her nerves as memories of the first time Tyki had used her are brought back to the forefront of her mind—along with all the other times, too.

Allen waits for her tears to slow down a bit before giving a slow incline of her head.

However, this simple movement is all Kanda needs to see in order to finally make him crack.

"That…" he hisses, his fists shaking with barely-subdued hatred. "That son of a  _bitch_!"

His harsh words cause her to flinch again. Perhaps she had been wrong, she thinks, wincing even more as the samurai's fury gets the better of him. This anger…this wrath…it doesn't make her feel any better. All it does is make her feel worse—guiltier and more pathetic for allowing her negative emotions to flow over into Kanda.

The Japanese man bristles with rage, his teeth clenched as tightly as his fists as he stares daggers into the wall above her head. A tiny bit of blood squeezes out from between his fist, and Allen automatically pushes herself to her feet, grabbing his wrist to inspect the damage.

"Kanda," she whispers, catching sight of the bloody half-moons that dot his palm. "You're hurting yourself." She hopes that her concern will at least calm him somewhat, though she doesn't hold high hopes. "Calm down, please—"

"I'm going to kill him," the man says quietly, as though he had not even heard her speak. With the way his eyes are staring firmly ahead, Allen thinks that he is probably talking to himself—for all she knows, he is seeing Tyki himself in the blank wall. "I'm going to skin that bastard alive. I should have known—I should have fought harder back then, during those other times that we met him. I let him get away."

"There's nothing you could have done, Kanda," she replies hurriedly, peeling his long-nailed fingers away from his bleeding palm. "My captivity…wasn't the first time. He found me in China, after I got injured trying to save Suman. There was nothing that anyone could do. I was alone."

Immediately, the white-haired girl knows that she should have kept her mouth shut. Kanda's unoccupied hand tightens, and his features contort into a terrifying mask that instills in her an instinct to run in the opposite direction.

She doesn't. It's not in her nature to do so.

" _What_?" Kanda exclaims. "You've been going through this hell for more than those three months? Why the fuck didn't you  _tell anybody_?"

Tears prick her eyes at the man's harshness, and she pointedly avoids the samurai's gaze. "There was nobody I  _could_  tell. I…"

His grip loosens at the sound of her cracked voice, and the next time he speaks, she isn't entirely sure that it's to her.

"I'll destroy him. I'll rip that goddamned smirk right off his face, just like I should have done in Edo. I'll…"

Kanda's frown deepens as he looks over at her, only to see the white-haired girl shake her head vigorously.

"No," she tells him, and even as she does, Allen is not certain why.

Neither, apparently, is Kanda. "Why the hell not?! Look at what he did to you! All those scars and bruises that were on your body before—they were from  _him_ , weren't they?"

 _How does he—did he spy on me when we were alone in Gdynia? Or when I was in the medical wing?_  For the moment, the young woman ignores the implications of his question. "No," she repeats. "Not all of them…just the ones that were on my neck…"

A sound of pointed disgust makes its way out of Kanda's throat, and his lips pull back into a nasty snarl. Her gaze returns to her feet, and stays there.

"Why are you defending him?" the man spits, his angry gaze now trained on her.

"I'm not! I just—"

"It sure as hell seems like you are. Why else would you be minimizing what he did? I know you didn't voluntarily have sex with him."

Immense pain surges through her chest as he says that, and she chokes on her next statement.  _If only you knew_ … "I…" Allen is at a momentary loss for words; she knows that she cannot stand the thought of Kanda fighting Tyki on her behalf. The mere consideration of it causes her stomach to churn, and her body threatens to make her vomit right here and now. But if she were to try to explain this to him…would he understand?

_It's worth a try._

"You can't fight him, Kanda," she sighs, wringing her hands. "The last time you did, you almost died because of it. It…it has to be  _me_  who fights him. You might not understand why, but…I have to face him myself. It's the only way I'll be able to put this behind me. The thought of anyone else doing it, of anyone else getting hurt because of me…I can't stand it. I've already taken too much from you."

"What are you talking about?" Kanda asks. "You didn't take anything from me, Moyashi."

"I'm talking about last night," she says, her nails digging into her palms. "I…" _I used you._

Kanda sighs in frustration. "It may have been my first time, but you didn't take anything that I didn't offer. It takes two to…you know. You're not making any sense."

"But—"

"Stop trying to change the subject. The last time you fought Mikk, you got kidnapped, and…you only ended up worse off than before. You won't be able to face him again, not with everything that's happened. Unless your Innocence has somehow gotten stronger, you won't stand a chance—and we both saw how you performed during training the other day."

"I'll train harder," Allen says, her voice sounding increasingly desperate. Despite the fact that she is pregnant, she still struggles to find any excuse to assuage Kanda's stubborn refusal to listen. "I'll—"

"Get your Innocence destroyed again," Kanda finishes for her, the accusation feeling like a slap in the face to the young woman. "I wasn't there when that happened, but I'll be damned if I let it happen again."

Allen juts out her lip indignantly, flabbergasted by the samurai's commanding tone. Who does he think he is? He has no right to tell her what to do—he hardly even understands the situation. She isn't completely helpless; she can still defend herself if need be, though her current bodily state poses its fair share of problems. "You can't stop me, Kanda. I'm an exorcist, just like you. If I don't fight the Noah, then who else will?"

"Me," Kanda says simply. "The Generals. Lenalee, the baka usagi, Bookman, Krory—hell, even that crazy Miranda woman. There are other exorcists who can face him, Moyashi. Leave Mikk to the others."

The white-haired girl shakes her head, unable to comprehend the depths of Kanda's denial. "It's not enough. Even the three of you couldn't handle him before. And you haven't even seen all of the Noah, Kanda—not like I have, and there are more where that came from."

"I don't care! That bastard deserves to die in the most painful way possible, along with the rest of the Noah. That entire family needs to be eradicated."

 _Family._  The Japanese man's assertion stings, but not for the reasons she expects. The word family is what gets to her, along with Kanda's strict condemnation of all the Noah. All the Noah…that includes her, Allen realizes. Is she nothing but scum as well? She hadn't chosen this life—none of the Noah had…she hadn't even known of Ezra and Neah until recently, yet she had been expected to fill the shoes of one and handle the discovery of her previously unknown family with relative ease.

Yet, she knows that she will be dubbed an enemy of the Order if word gets out of her affiliation with the Fourteenth. And as for the fetus growing inside her womb…would he or she technically be considered a member of the Noah family, even if they are not a chosen disciple like the others? If so, then that means, along with being a bastard, this child would be considered an enemy to the Order as well.

"Kanda…" she says quietly, her voice tinged with a nervous edge. "…what if…what if one of his family was a part of me, too?"

Kanda narrows his eyes at her, appearing to be confused by her question. "What are you—"

Silence. The samurai stops talking in the middle of his sentence when he catches on to her insinuation. He stares at her in renewed horror as, against her will, the young woman's hand falls to her stomach, resting against the barely-visible bump as though doing so will somehow protect it from Kanda's wrath. Hesitantly, Allen raises her head to look up at him, fearful of what she will see when she does.

It's even worse than what she had imagined. The Japanese man gapes at her with wide eyes, his expression caught between what she perceives to be both horror and anger.

"He…" Kanda starts to speak, but quickly gives up on the endeavor.

Shame washes over her once again, and Allen is repulsed by the undertone of pity that she detects in his voice. She closes her eyes, savoring the welcome silence for a brief moment.

And then, the white-haired girl flinches as a dull crack meets her ears. Her eyes snap back open, widening in shock and minute fear when she sees the spidery crack that Kanda has made in the wall beside her head.

"Dammit," he hisses, his fist shaking in rage as tiny bits of plaster rain from the bloodied knuckles. His blood drips in tandem with her tears, the dripping noises muted by the man's heavy breathing. Allen does her best to hide her crying from him, all to no avail. When he sees her shaking shoulders, he lowers his fist, turning back around to face her once more.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, uncertain as to what else she should say in this situation. Her words are barely perceptible in her tear-stricken voice, but she still hopes that he hears her, that he will be able to forgive her for her selfish lie.

She hears Kanda sigh, and before she has a chance to pull away her head is pulled into something warm. Another body engulfs her, pressing her against Kanda's as he tries in his own way to offer the emotional support that his words cannot. He keeps one of his palms on the back of her head, and the other caressing the small of her back. Allen allows herself to cry into his chest, silently cringing at the thought that she is leaving tearstains on his exorcist coat.

At this moment, this is the best way for him to support her, and she only cries harder at the thought.

"I'm sorry," she says again, the words muffled by Kanda's chest.

At first, she thinks that he had not heard her, but after a few seconds she hears him sigh against her scalp.

"Idiot," he mutters, his voice loud and clear to Allen's ears. "What are you apologizing for?"

The words had not been necessarily kind, but the white-haired girl senses the honest intent behind them—and, in truth, it is one of the nicest things Kanda himself has ever said to her. She feels her heart breaking just a little bit more at the realization that he is actually trying to  _comfort_ her, despite her lies and the baggage that she has just dumped on him.

She clutches Kanda's coat tighter in her fists; at this moment, he is the only thing keeping her anchored. If he were to leave her alone right now, without any source of ease or outlet for her grief, she would surely fall apart—and a part of her even believes that she deserves it.

* * *

That night, after Allen slips back into her room (thankfully unnoticed by Link), Kanda slams his fist into his bedroom wall. Old, empty picture frames rattle on the walls, along with the desk and glass case that houses his lotus. He torments himself beyond all rational thought, still in partial disbelief over what the white-haired girl had told him. He is inclined to believe that it had all been a bizarre nightmare, propagated by his continuing hatred of the Noah who had kidnapped her.

But it isn't, and he knows full well that it isn't. How could he have been so goddamned  _stupid_? He thinks back on all the times that he has called others idiots, belittling them for their perceived cluelessness and thick skulls, and finally comes to understand that he had been no better; as a matter of fact, he had been the biggest fool of them all. Despite how much closer he had gotten to the white-haired girl in the past few weeks, he had still been unable to figure out what is wrong with her—not without her practically force-feeding him the information. Tyki Mikk had even told him…he had told him during his attack on Headquarters that he would do unspeakable things to Allen, but the Japanese man had not even considered that such things had occurred after he found her.

She had seemed so normal, far more well functioning for someone who had been subjected to such atrocities than he would have thought. He had known that  _something_  was wrong with her, but his mind had refused to let him believe it. Even after seeing her body…

All the marks and the bruises, especially the ones on her neck—Kanda grimaces in rage as he remembers them—should have clued him in as to what was going on. But still, his distracted mind had not allowed him to connect the pieces—whether because of a deep-seated denial or mere absentmindedness, he has no idea.

However, the samurai  _is_  sure that he will make that disgusting Noah suffer for what he has done before he finally expires. Nothing would satisfy Kanda more at the moment than seeing Tyki Mikk die at Mugen's blade. Even if the white-haired girl doesn't want him to be involved, there is no way in hell he is going to allow her to face that bastard alone. He will be damned before he lets that sick fuck go anywhere near her again—and, he thinks with clenched teeth, near her unborn child.

He digs his nails into his palm.

* * *

Though the next morning is decidedly awkward, the samurai is somewhat relieved that she does not avoid him. He is already sitting in the cafeteria when she arrives, and Allen sits down across from him without saying a word. Leverrier's loyal guard dog sits right beside her.

Kanda nods at her in acknowledgment, but pointedly ignores the other man, who casts him a wary glance from across the table.

_Moron. We're the ones who should be suspicious of you._

"Good morning, Kanda," Allen says wistfully, her accompanying smile betraying the lines of stress that mar her features. Kanda barely manages to avoid cringing at the sight, and gives her a small nod of reciprocation.

The three of them proceed to eat in silence, creating a pervading aura of tension around the table. The others in the vicinity tend to avoid sitting near them; frankly, Kanda cannot blame them. They have good reason to be concerned; his own irritated mood is probably enough to ward most people off.

Except, of course, for a few brave souls.

"Good morning," Lenalee chirps as she and the exuberant redhead approach the table with their own trays. "Is it okay if we sit here?" Her stare lingers on Link, and the Japanese man easily follows her train of thought.

_Should we sit here?_

"Your choice," he mutters at her, not looking up from his bowl of soba _. Only if you think you can handle it,_  is what he really means.

Lenalee appears to understand his message, and nods at him with a faint grin. "Okay, then—and you could be a little nicer by the way, Kanda." She winks at him out of the corner of her eye, and the samurai shrugs in response.

The Chinese girl drags Lavi around to the other side of the table, taking a seat beside Kanda so as to avoid sitting next to Link. The stoic man resists the urge to smirk; Allen's cohort seems to make the others uncomfortable as well, though they are all trying their best to hide it. He doesn't even want to think about how she's faring with the blonde sleeping in her room…

 _He better not try anything funny_. The samurai shoots a not-so-subtle glance at Leverrier's lackey every time he takes a bite of food, eager to see if his intense glare will be noticed by the young man.

A few minutes later brings, along with no recognition from Link, near total silence to the table; Kanda finds himself wanting to blurt out a snarky comment or insult to Leverrier's lapdog, but bites his tongue when he remembers what Allen had asked of him. Losing his temper would surely get her in trouble as well…but still, this is ridiculous. Having a man play babysitter to a young woman seems depraved even from Leverrier's point of view, no matter the reason. The white-haired girl isn't a danger to anyone but herself, judging from her intent to fight Tyki Mikk. Even so, Kanda knows that she will not get a chance to do anything self-destructive; he will not let her.

Suddenly, the Japanese man feels a firm hand land on his shoulder. On instinct, he violently shrugs the person off, making a noise of obvious displeasure at being touched. He shoots up from the table and spins around to stare at the offender, his hand automatically flying to Mugen's hilt.

"Master?" Allen says, sounding concerned for the man's wellbeing. "What are you doing?"

Cross Marian smirks at her from his place behind Kanda's shoulder. "Nice to see you as well, idiot apprentice," he says, shooting everyone at the table his signature cocky grin.

Kanda  _tsks_ under his breath, not happy in the least to see the red-haired General. Cross glances at the samurai out of the corner of his eye, clearing his throat audibly.

Allen rolls her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, of course," Cross replies, turning his attention back to the young woman. "Say, Allen, is it okay if I steal Tiedoll's apprentice from you for a moment? It shouldn't take too long, but I'd like to have a word with him."

"Oi! What the hell's your problem, Cross?"

While Kanda glares fiercely as the General, the white-haired girl merely stares at him, her expression aghast at his request. "Uh…sure, if it's okay with him. I can't really speak for Kanda, Master…"

"You heard the lady," Cross croons, completely ignoring the Japanese man's increasing anger as he clamps a hand down on his shoulder once again. "What'll it be, then?"

As much as he wants to tell the man to go to hell, Kanda knows that whatever he wants to talk about must have some level of importance—otherwise he would do it in front of Link. "Tch."

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

Kanda begrudgingly goes with Cross, mindful of Link's eyes on his back all the while. The General takes them out of earshot of the others, to a more secluded area of the cafeteria populated only by a Finder who sits more than five tables away; if they keep quiet, he will not be able to distinguish their voices within the mighty din of all the others.

Before the samurai can utter a single word, Cross is already on him.

"What did you two idiots do?" he says under his breath, all traces of jovial manner having vanished.

At first, Kanda is so caught off guard by the man's choice of words that he merely stares at him in shock. However, the initial surprise soon gives way to anger as the samurai once again regains his mental footing.

"What the hell are you talking about, Cross?" he spits, enraged by the arrogant manner in which the red-haired man speaks to him.

Said man leans closer, for once looking deadly serious as he scrutinizes Kanda's features. His single eye roams over the Japanese man's stoic face, causing Kanda to become increasingly uneasy.

_What is he looking for?_

"You may be able to fool or scare others away with your behavior," the General says quietly, "but make no mistake. Do not try to play dumb with me. Now I'll ask you again: What did you do?"

Kanda has no idea what the man is talking about specifically, or even where to begin; a part of him doesn't even want to answer.

"Not going to say anything, are you? Well, it was more of a rhetorical question, anyway. I would expect nothing less from you. Let's cut to the chase—I know that you had sex with my apprentice."

All at once, his stomach feels as though it has just dropped to his feet. Cross's statement had been so abrupt, so unexpected, that it causes him to go rigid in his seat.

"How did you—"

"Based on your expression, I'm right," Cross assesses. "I noticed that you two have been acting strangely—always together, you being overprotective, and now you've even started sneaking around together at night." At Kanda's expression of outrage, he says, "Timcanpy followed you. I'm not an idiot, you know. I've been keeping an eye on the both of you. But I noticed yesterday that something else had happened as well. What, you think I can't tell when two people have had relations? It's written all over your face, you fool."

Cross's statement causes his ears to burn with embarrassment. It's one thing to have the General call him an idiot or berate him for his apparent stupidity—both things that Kanda vigorously refutes when they come from  _his_  mouth—but to be subjected to an interrogation about his sex life is almost too much for him to handle. He is particularly mortified to be asked such questions by the Moyashi's own mentor, especially given the man's womanizing ways.

"It's none of your business what we do," Kanda finally answers, his tone gruff and quiet; her does not, under any circumstances, want anyone to overhear this conversation. He would sooner impale himself with Mugen—or, more appealingly, impale the unfortunate soul who had eavesdropped.

"Oh, but it is," the red-haired man says, leaning closer to the table. "I'm her mentor, and on top of that, I know more about her than you could ever hope to. Tell, me, Kanda—has she been okay since that night? Has she been responsive? What has her mood been like around you?"

 _No, somewhat, and…tense._  These answers do not fill the samurai with much optimism, but he refuses to acknowledge this fact to Cross.  _What is he getting at, anyway?_ "Why do you even want to know? Are you saying that I don't understand her?" Kanda stares daggers at the man across from him, put off by the General's blatant assumption. "You have no room to talk, Cross. You're the one who left her behind."

"And you're the one who's more clueless than a lump of coal. You may have been the one who found her and brought her back, but that doesn't give you the authority to suddenly tell me what's on her mind." Cross mutters something else under his breath, and Kanda fumes at the possibility that it was an insult. The General leans his cheek on his hand, staring at the samurai with a deadened eye. "Do you have any idea what's happening to her right now, Kanda? What she's been going through in the past few months? I'm sure she's told you something. You wouldn't seem so angry if she hadn't."

 _He knows_ , the Japanese man realizes, and he cannot help the brief surge of disappointment that runs through him. Had the Moyashi told Cross before him? The idea that the white-haired girl trusts her mentor more than him is a bit insulting, but Kanda tries not to let it get to him too much, instead nodding at the red-haired man. "She told me…about what happened while she was trapped with Mikk." He cannot be sure, but for a moment he believes that Cross relaxes at his words. "And…she told me that she's…"

Cross tenses up once again, his eye unblinking as he stares at the young man.

"…with child," Kanda finishes, whispering the last two words while covering his mouth with one hand. He doesn't want anyone else to know.

A dark look crosses the General's eye, and he nods in acknowledgment. "I see. So why the  _hell_ would you take advantage of her knowing her situation? You couldn't tell what a fragile state of mind she's in?"

Kanda is taken aback by the sudden malice in Cross's voice, and he immediately goes on the defensive. "I didn't initiate anything the first time. I didn't know what was going on—she told me after." Suddenly, acute anger takes over the samurai. "Anyway, why the hell do you have the right to talk? You've known about this for who knows how long and you haven't done a goddamn thing about it. You act like nothing's happened. At least I show some damn concern."

"And that," Cross says, sitting up straight in his seat, "is why you're going to get us in trouble."

"What?"

The General sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "Are you really that thick, boy? It's clear that Leverrier is already suspicious of my apprentice. Why else would he send one of his subordinates to look after her? She won't be able to hide her condition forever. If—when—word gets out about it, what do you think is going to happen?"

Kanda's mouth has gone suddenly dry, and he swallows in an attempt to get rid of the sensation of a throat made of sandpaper.

"No answer?" Cross says sarcastically. "Well, I'll tell you what's going to happen. I've been with the Order for a long time, and I've dealt with Central far too many times than I would have cared to. In the best case scenario, Allen will be seen as a victim of a predatory Noah. She will be separated from us—from you—until the child's birth, at which time they will either do experiments on it or kill it if it turns out to be dangerous. If it survives, it will surely be used to further the Order's goals. It will not have a life. Perhaps you would be able to convince them that it's yours—at least temporarily, until they realize it's actually half-Portuguese and not Japanese—but Allen would still be scorned for being a whore. The Vatican isn't very forgiving of exorcists who have children out of wedlock."

Kanda grits his teeth, already dreading the answer to his next question. "What's the worst case scenario?"

Cross taps his finger against the table, his expression uncharacteristically grim. "What do you think? They'll accuse her of consorting with the Noah, of course. Leverrier is already suspicious of the fact that she managed to escape unharmed—though he was already suspicious before that, mind you, since her Innocence hadn't yet been destroyed despite the fact that she had been taken by the Noah. Her being pregnant will only solidify this suspicion. If he has his way, he will lock her up and interrogate her—perhaps he would even kill the fetus if it weren't for the Vatican's strict laws against abortion, but then again, they are the biggest bunch of hypocrites I've ever seen. They might simply opt for an abortion. Honestly, simply getting rid of the child would probably be easier, but I'm not sure that my apprentice would go for it."

The Japanese man doesn't hear the last part; he is too busy fuming over the possibility of Allen being branded an accomplice of the Noah. "They have no proof," he hisses, his nails practically denting the table. "She fought for them for years! How can they turn their backs on her so easily, with hardly any evidence?"

"Because they can't afford to take any risks," the General says, ceasing the incessant tapping of his finger. "In any case, we have to be careful. I myself would prefer to get her out of here as soon as possible. She shouldn't be anywhere near the Order when she starts to show. It's too dangerous—she has to leave."

"What did you have in mind?"

"At first, I was considering having Komui assign her a mission—something long-term, that would give her ample time to shake that blonde kid off of her tail. But Leverrier would undoubtedly refuse to let that happen; he wants to keep her close. So, in order for this to work, she would have to run away during the night."

"So what?" Kanda says, more than irritated with the unsavory plan; so much could go wrong. "Your plan is to just have her make a break for it? What if the Noah go after her again?"

"That's the problem," the man admits. "One of us would have to go with her, to make sure that she stays safe. It would be difficult to get away with, but not impossible."

"…so what are we going to do?"

Cross sighs, glancing across the room at the white-haired girl. "I don't know, but it has to be soon. Otherwise, we're all doomed."

* * *

The Head Nurse swats impatiently at a fly as it buzzes around her head, huffing in annoyance when the insufferable creature refuses to leave her alone. All she wants to do is tidy up the medical wing—but apparently that is too much to ask for.

It seems as though nothing is going smoothly as of late, not that it ever had in the first place. Headquarters is under strict scrutiny from Central; Finders are being slaughtered left and right; now, even Allen is suffering greatly.

 _Oh, Allen-chan_ , the older woman muses sadly as she folds a spare blanket—one that she swears she had left in her back office, but had probably forgotten about in her conflicted state of mind.  _What on Earth is going to happen to you now?_

The white-haired girl's pregnancy had very nearly given her a heart attack when she found out. How could someone so honest and kind be subjected to such cruel treatment, even at the hands of an enemy? It simply isn't fair—and now even Central is leering at her, watching her every movement like a hawk watches its prey. It's disgusting, in her opinion, and she knows that the situation will only grow worse the longer the young woman stays here. If only she could—

"Excuse me, Nurse. Is it alright for me to intrude?"

She cranes her neck around to see Inspector Leverrier lurking in the hallway, his hands clasped behind his back as usual. Though she internally recoils at the thought of speaking with him, the nurse nods her head in assent, giving the man a stiff smile.

"Of course, Inspector. I'm just tidying up. Feel free to come in."

The man enters the room with shrewd eyes; it almost looks as though he is searching for something, an object or person that she cannot begin to guess the identity of. In any case, it gives her an uneasy feeling.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Head Nurse, but I would like to ask you about something. It's very important."

"Oh? What is it?" She straightens her posture, turning around to face the man as he halts in front of her.

"In your professional opinion, how is Miss Walker faring? She seems to be doing much better, but I would like to know if there is anything else I should know about regarding her welfare."

"About Allen-chan?" If Leverrier notices her grave discomfort, he does not show it; he continues to leer at her in a disconcerting fashion, but does little else. It makes her skin crawl. "Well, I do believe she has been doing much better lately. Her bout of influenza seems to be getting better. I have no doubt that she will make a full recovery in little time. As far as more serious ailments go, I have no knowledge of them."

"Influenza, you say?" Leverrier narrows his gaze at her, his frown deepening as she stares impassively back at him.

A cold sweat breaks out on the back of her neck, but the woman holds firm. "Yes, Inspector. Why do you ask?"

"I am very sorry, Nurse, but I dislike it when people keep secrets from me. I should apologize in advance, but I took the liberty of having my men examine Miss Walker's medical records. What they revealed was very…interesting."

The nurse swallows dryly. "I would imagine so. Allen-chan managed to use her Innocence to seal a hole in her heart—I wouldn't think such an occurrence would be overlooked. But Inspector, all the medical records for the exorcists are available upon request. You do not have to sneak about my office."

"Not those. I am referring to the piece of paper you kept hidden in a locked drawer in your office."

The tension in the room is now palpable; the older woman's eyes widen in brief panic, but she quickly tries to retain her earlier nonchalant posture. Even so, her blood goes cold as Leverrier pulls a sheet of parchment out from behind his back, unfolding the crumpled piece and displaying it before her.

 _ **ALLEN WALKER**  _is printed in clear, bold letters at the top of the page.

"It seems that you wished to keep Miss Walker's state a secret from us. High blood pressure, increased production of hormones as shown by distinct bodily changes, raised and firm skin on the abdomen…I also noticed that despite her proclaimed sickness, you did not prescribe her any sedatives or medications. Why is that?"

"She could not take them," the nurse answers quickly, her tone more snappy than usual. She inwardly curses herself. "I mean to say, Inspector, that because she was asleep for most of her time here, she could not take them. Therefore, I did not prescribe any."

She clenches her jaw as Leverrier frowns at her. "Is that so? Well, I do believe you're lying to me—the Order will not look too kindly on this unless you come clean."

She says nothing; she simply glares at Leverrier with all her might, hoping by some miracle that he will drop the subject and leave her alone.

But of course, this is far too much to ask for from a man like him.

"I understand your hesitance—truly, I do. You do not want to sell out someone you have affection for. However, this is not about just you and Miss Walker. This is about the welfare of the entire Order. You cannot afford to keep secrets from us, Nurse—we are in the middle of a war."

She still says nothing, keeping her lips firmly sealed.

"This is unfortunate," the man continues, "but it seems to me that, based on all the symptoms, Allen Walker is pregnant."


	27. A Change of Plans

"Allen-chan?"

As she tunes out the voice across from her, Allen cannot help but to stare across the cafeteria at the two most important men in her life—aside, of course, from the man that haunts her dreams. She is dying of curiosity to know exactly what it is that Kanda and her mentor are saying to each other. The white-haired girl glares intensely at them, despite the fact that she is unable to read lips at this distance.

Besides, even if she  _could_ discern their words based solely on lip movement, the two men keep their mouths expertly hidden behind hands and hair at opportune moments. Their heads are pressed closely together as though they are sharing secrets, minimizing any chance of someone overhearing their heated whispers. They both have grave looks on their faces, which are only enhanced by the rigidity in their bodies; they are tense and wary of anyone who happens to walk within twenty feet of them, as shown by their constant sideways glances. It is clear that they are heatedly discussing something—something important, something that teases her without relief the longer their conversation goes on.

And, apparently, something that is not for her ears to hear.

 _Just what on Earth are the two of them talking about? I've never seen Master look so serious—and even Kanda isn't bothering to yell at him. Usually they end up in a verbal spar whenever they talk—though, that's mostly Kanda's fault_. The curiosity nags at her, distracting her from her platters of food. She pauses with the fork halfway to her mouth, her hunger suddenly forgotten as she continues to watch the two men from across the room. Perhaps she should just go over there and ask what they're talking about—but then she remembers Link's presence, and has a pretty fair hunch that it isn't safe for the blonde man to hear whatever it is they are discussing.

"Allen-chan?"

But still, she wants to know; it isn't fair that she is being kept out of the loop, even if she is hindered by the presence of one of Leverrier's men. Couldn't Master Cross just sneak her a piece of paper with a message? Why go to the trouble of telling Kanda first…

…unless whatever they're talking about is about her? But no, they wouldn't do anything so underhanded—they would consult  _her_  about the issue, right? Cross is clever enough to pull something off, to correspond with her secretly without getting caught. He has done worse things before.

 _Just what could be so important that they have to keep it from me? Not just that, but from Link as well? Is it something concerning the Order? I hope it's nothing that could get them in trouble—though, knowing Master, it's probably much worse than that. Knowing him, it's something that could get them kicked out._  Though she means the last thought as a joke, it comes out sounding far more cynical than she had intended.

" _Allen-chan!"_

The white-haired girl is startled out of her daydream by Lenalee's loud attempt at grabbing her attention. It works like a charm; the young woman nearly overturns her bowl of soup as the Chinese girl's shrill voice pierces her eardrums.

"Ouch! Lenalee, what was that for?" she complains, rubbing her ringing ears.

Lavi giggles childishly at her pain, while Lenalee pouts at the girl sitting across from her. "I've been calling your name for over a minute now—you've just been staring into space. I almost thought you'd fallen asleep with your eyes open. Are you okay, Allen-chan?"

"Or have you finally learned how to tune out Lena's voice?" Lavi quips, a cocky smirk on his face.

Allen fully expects Lenalee to slug the redhead for his remark, but instead the other girl merely glances at her in concern. "You seem distracted," she points out. "Is something on your mind?"

The young woman notices Link staring at her out of the corner of her eye, and she forces a smile to her face so as to alleviate the man's suspicion. "You've got me there," she says, putting her hands up in surrender. "I'm still a little bit under the weather. I probably just didn't get enough sleep last night, is all."

Though the frown on Lenalee's face lessens somewhat, the worry does not leave her eyes. "Are you sure you're okay? I know that you're probably tired of me asking, but I worry about you, Allen-chan. You always try to shoulder your burdens by yourself instead of letting people help you. I'm not saying you should tell me all of your problems—that's up to you—but at the very least, you should take care of yourself better. Everyone here cares about you. If you're tired, get some more sleep."

The sincerity in Lenalee's tone warms her heart, and at the same time, makes her feel even worse. She wishes that she could just tell the other girl everything—Lenalee is her best female friend—but she is understandably wary of revealing her secret to too many people, not to mention the fact that it would be impossible to do so with Link always around.

So she settles for the easier route.

"Thank you, Lenalee. As a matter of fact, I'm going to go do just that."

The young woman says her goodbyes to Lenalee and Lavi, casting one last paranoid glance at Cross and Kanda before getting up to return her dishes to Jerry.

On her way out of the cafeteria, Link surprises her by speaking unprovoked.

"Are you certain that you are well enough to not require treatment, Miss Walker? If you are feeling unwell still, I will let you know that I have knowledge of a series of homeopathic remedies that can help with daytime drowsiness and insomnia. They work very well, if you are uncomfortable with going to the Head Nurse for medicine."

Though she is surprised (and made unfairly suspicious) by the young man's offer, Allen smiles stiffly at him. Pushing aside her learned cynicism, she is appreciative of Link's rare moment of endearment, even if all she truly wants is to be allowed to speak with her mentor without worrying about getting in trouble for it.

"Thank you for the offer, Link," she says, meeting his half-lidded gaze, "but I think I'll be fine. It's just strange, having to get used to someone I just met sleeping in my room."

"I haven't done anything inappropriate, I assure you. I will try to respect your personal space in any way that I can while still doing my job."

Allen flushes at his words, biting her tongue to keep a groan from slipping out. She hadn't meant to make the situation awkward. "It's not that! I would feel the same if you were female—um, never mind."

Link stares curiously at her, his stiff expression making him look almost comical. "You are very odd, Miss Walker. Perhaps it's a mark of your generation."

"You aren't much older than me, are you, Link?"

"Three and a half years is quite a lot from your perspective."

"Not really."

"In any case, I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused you, but I can't afford to disregard my duties. Inspector Leverrier has put his confidence in me, and I have no intention of being chastised for neglecting my responsibilities."

Allen tries to hide her instinct to frown. In a strange way, she does understand where he is coming from. It's not as though Link is one of the higher-ranking members of the Order; he has about as much power as her. He is subject to Leverrier just as everyone else here is—and, to be honest, in the brief time that she's known him, he has been fairly polite to her. He hadn't been belligerent when she had fought with him over his new position, though he does possess a natural uptight aura to his personality—it isn't as bad as Leverrier's, thank God. It makes her furrow her brows in confusion and occasional annoyance, but it is far from the worst quality she's seen in a person.

"I know," she sighs. "It wouldn't be in your best interest for you to disobey him. I understand."

The two fall silent as they slip out of the cafeteria, Allen sighing in relief upon leaving behind the noisy din of the large room.

That is, until she walks right back into trouble.

The white-haired girl pales considerably when she sees Leverrier standing before her, flanked by two guards on either side. Both have stern expressions, and Leverrier is similarly stiff but for the spark of intensity in his eye.

 _What's going on now?_  She doesn't care much for the manner in which the guards are eyeing her—the one on the left looks as though he's itching to grab her right here and now, and she realizes with shock that it is the same guard who had tried to drag her inside when she first came back. The other one appears to be disturbed. (Almost as disturbed as she is, Allen thinks with a hint of irony.)

"Um…good morning, Inspector," the young woman says, bowing slightly to the older man. "Is there something wrong? What's going on?"

Said man eyes her tentatively, as though he doesn't trust the words coming out of her mouth; there isn't much to read into, she thinks with unease. It had been a fairly honest question, hadn't it?

"Miss Walker," the Inspector finally says, "would you mind coming with us? I have a few more questions for you."

Her throat goes dry at the same time her skin breaks into a cold sweat. What does he want from her now? Had he somehow figured out that she had been lying to him the first time she talked to him? "Can I ask what's going on, Sir? I don't feel very comfortable going with you without asking why. I mean no disrespect."

Leverrier smiles at her, but the gesture is far from kindhearted; it is teasing like a snake's, and twice as virulent. "Allow me to rephrase the question. You _are_  coming with us, Miss Walker. I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter."

This very nearly sends the white-haired girl into a panic, but she reins in her emotions at the last minute. "What are you talking about?" Against her better judgment, she backs away as one of the guards—the more violent one—steps towards her.

"I'd rather not say in polite company."

Allen narrows her eyes at him; although glaring at him is most likely not helping her case, it is her first reaction to Leverrier's cryptic statement.

How is she going to get out of this?

Two pairs of footsteps come up behind her, and Allen releases a sigh of relief when she hears one of the new arrivals speak on her behalf.

"What the fuck is going on?"

 _Kanda._  The young woman turns around to see that both the samurai and her mentor have come to her aid, and she chances a tiny grin. However, her smile quickly vanishes when she feels something heavy clamp down on her wrist.

Allen immediately wrenches her gaze back to the guard in front of her. Apparently, he had taken advantage of the opportunity of her averted eyes to attach what looks like a paper handcuff with seals to her wrist.

Her blood goes cold.  _Another handcuff…_

As she watches, the cuff extends, and several tendrils that resemble bandages wind their way up her arm, wrapping her anti-Akuma weapon completely. She stares up at Leverrier in shock, almost numb to Kanda's shout of objection from behind her. She has other matters on her mind.

"What is this?" she says, examining the strange object on her arm.

"A binding spell," the man tells her. "With it on, you will be unable to activate your Innocence."

"But—"

"I would stay away from her if I were you, Kanda Yuu," the Inspector interrupts, returning his heated gaze to the man behind her. "We wouldn't want any trouble, would we? You've been on reasonably good terms with the Order compared to General Cross. You don't want that to change."

Allen stares at Kanda and Cross from over her shoulder, pleading with her eyes for them to stay out of this. God only knows what Leverrier would do if either of them try to stop him; for all she knows, he could end up chaining them both up with her.

"He's right," she whispers, speaking more to the Japanese man than to the General. This only intensifies the blatant anger on the samurai's face—as though somehow, she is the villain for agreeing to be subjected to Leverrier's whim. "Leave it alone."

Though Cross looks grim, he nods at her, placing a hand on Kanda's shoulder so as to reel the younger man in. The white-haired girl silently thanks him, grateful that there is at least someone around who she knows is capable of controlling Kanda to an extent.

"Are you serious, Moyashi?" the samurai spits at her. "He doesn't have the right to do this to you."

"I'm afraid I do," the Inspector says, "and since this does not involve you, Kanda Yuu, you are the one who is out of line."

Another sinking feeling runs through her when she hears more footsteps approaching their group. Following in the stead of Cross and Kanda, both Lenalee and Lavi come out of the cafeteria. They abruptly halt when they see the scene playing out in front of them: Allen, bound and surrounded by Leverrier and two stoic guards; Kanda, with a rage-filled expression and tense muscles that are only being restrained by a similarly tight-lipped Cross.

While Lavi appears merely confused, the Chinese girl pales more than Allen even had at the sight of the Inspector. She reflexively inches closer to the future Bookman, most likely in the midst of remembering all the bad experiences she had had with Leverrier. (Experiences that had become obvious as a result of how Lenalee constantly avoids running into him. Allen hadn't had to be a genius to figure it out; she feels much the same way.)

"Allen-chan?" Lenalee says, concern palpable in her voice. Though she appears to be distressed by the Inspector's presence, she forces her panicked expression away in favor of a chilling glare. "What is this?" she demands, her voice gaining strength as she addresses Leverrier himself. "What are you doing to Allen-chan?"

Leverrier sighs from behind her. "Why must all the exorcists question my decisions?" he whispers. Then, to all of them, he says, "Pardon me, everyone, but Miss Walker is hereby in the custody of Central Command. I am taking her with me for purposes of questioning. As such, I am not obligated—and even restricted—from giving any of you an answer until such time as the knowledge becomes indisputable and necessary. None of you are to see her until it is deemed appropriate."

Just as the Inspector gestures to the guards to bring her along, Link steps forward.

"What about me, Inspector? Shall I come along with you?"

"No. You are to stay behind. We are taking her to a quarantined area, so there is no need for you to come with us."

And, just like that, the only person from Central who had been at least hospitable to her is dismissed. She may see him again one day, but the way things are going right now, Allen does not hold out much hope.

As the white-haired girl is led away by the overtly violent guard, she glares at the back of Leverrier's head, wishing for a brief moment that her intense stare would be enough to cause him to spontaneously combust. She doesn't look back at her friends as she walks away, worried that seeing their distressed expressions will cause her to lose her own nerve. If even they are worried sick about the situation, then that doesn't leave much hope for her, she reasons.

However, this doesn't mean that she cannot still hear everything they are saying.

" _Get your hands off me, Cross! Dammit—that son of a bitch has no right to take her!"_

" _Calm down, Kanda. Be patient for once in your life. We already talked about your temper."_

" _What are they going to do to her? General Cross, surely there must be something you can do to help her! She's your apprentice—you know her better than they do. Can't you talk to the higher-ups about this?"_

" _Don't worry, Lena. Bookman's bound to know something about what's going on. I can find out from him. I won't be able to tell you the details, but at least we can get some reassurance, ne?"_

" _You know what's going on, don't you, Link?"_

" _I'm sorry. It's beyond my jurisdiction to tell you anything, even if I did know…"_

Allen listens to them bicker until she turns the corner up ahead, and as their voices die out, her silver eyes begin to water.

* * *

She doesn't know where they are taking her, though this isn't for lack of trying to figure it out. As soon as they get to a hallway—one that she had previously not known existed—she is blindfolded, her vision made dark and her eyes now incapable of seeing anything through the thick fabric. The guards are standing on either side of her, both clutching one of her arms in a vice-like grip as she is none too gently led to an unknown location.

The young woman nearly trips over her own feet more than a few times as she is taken down several flights of stairs; she counts four in total, though it's entirely possible that she has lost count in her confusion. Every time she slips up, the guards hardly give her a moment to right herself before they are pulling her along once again, leaving her to stub her toes on the hard floor.

Either way, no matter how far down they go, it is abundantly clear to Allen that escape is all but impossible—or, at least, this is the message Leverrier is trying to send her. And this is, of course, when the white-haired girl's fear becomes more prominent. This is not like before, when Leverrier had questioned her in his office. Back then, the young woman had been able to leave afterward; Kanda had been right outside, waiting for her in case anything went wrong.

Now, she is alone. This situation gives off the pervading aura that she is nothing more than a prisoner in her own home.

Her fears come true when the guards suddenly stop, turning her around to face something that she cannot see. There is the sound of metal clanking against metal, and the imposing squeal of rusting hinges. Cool, dank air hits her face as a door in front of her opens, and without another word from either the guards or Leverrier, Allen is shoved inside.

Before she can so much as speak, the door is slammed shut behind her; the familiar damning sounds of locks being forced into place assault her ears, and after that, there is complete silence. She is alone in…wherever she is.

As much as she hates the thought of doing so, the white-haired girl reaches up with shaking fingers to remove her blindfold. She doesn't know where she is or what she will see when she opens her eyes, but she hopes for both her sake and that of the fetus growing inside her that is at least bearable.

Upon seeing her surroundings for the first time, she releases a sigh of both relief and dread.

The room is not a dank dark pit, as she had feared. It's made entirely of heavy-looking brick but for the metal door behind her; the walls are drab and gray, but there are also several amenities that make it somewhat tolerable. A positive aspect of the room is that on one side of it there is a twin-size mattress. It looks lumpy, but relatively clean—though she is certain that is due more to the fact that it hasn't been used in a while than that it has been cleaned as of late.

Either way, the white-haired girl reasons, it will have to do until she is able to leave this place—whenever that is. It's not as though she is in a position to complain about her treatment, no matter how unfair it is. She hasn't even been told anything regarding why she is here yet, apart from Leverrier's claim that it has to do with questioning. If she were to try to declare her rights, would he laugh in her face? Or, even worse, would he just give her his familiar snake smile?

Allen shivers at the thought, and it isn't because of the cold draft in the room.

Further examination of her current prison reveals to her that there is a bathroom attached to it, complete with a shower and large bathtub. The mirror is smeared from old fingerprints, but that is the only complaint she has. The medicine cabinet is stocked with all the necessary toiletries—bar soap, shampoo, toothpaste and brush, a cup, even a small hairbrush—so she allows herself a sigh of relief that she will not have to be filthy for very long.

At the same time, she shudders at the implication that this means she will be here for an extended period of time.

The white-haired girl tries to shove these negative thoughts away, perfectly aware that mulling over them will only bring her more misery. All in all, she has been dealt a far better hand than she had expected from the Inspector—the only factor that remains is to find out what he wants. Allen hopes fervently that she has not been caught in her lie; what will he do to her if this is the case? Accuse her of being a traitor?

With nothing else to do aside from muse about her possible fate, the young woman sits on the edge of the bed. It's as lumpy as she had imagined, but she supposes that's to be expected. Prisoners—she hates referring to herself as being such, though she cannot think of anything else to call her situation—are generally not looked upon too fondly by the Black Order.

And so, Allen waits, trying to gain control over her panic as she begins to feel as though she is back in the Ark. The room is nowhere near similar to Tyki's, but she is still eerily reminded of her time spent with the Noah of Pleasure. Just like before, she is waiting with bated breath for her enemy to come back. Though Leverrier is not Tyki, and will not torture her as he had done, the white-haired girl is still unnerved by his presence. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Though she rationalizes that she should feel safer here in the Order, ironically enough, she also acknowledges that her situation is potentially more dangerous. If she isn't safe in the Order, then where  _can_  she be safe?

If even the people she had thought were her friends are against her, then what is she going to do?

* * *

After what seems like hours, the sound of screeching metal reaches her ears once again, and her eyes shoot up to stare at the entrance to her new prison. A thin slot in the middle of the door slides open, revealing the familiar hue and pattern of Leverrier's coat.

_So he isn't even going to make eye contact, is he?_

"How are you finding your room, Miss Walker?" he asks, forcing Allen to subdue a laugh in the face of his ironic concern. I trust that everything is to your liking?"

"You could say that," she replies, eyeing the dark stains on the wall opposite her. She only hopes that it isn't the remains of blood. "If you don't mind my asking now, Inspector, why am I here? If you just wanted to interrogate me, you wouldn't have locked me up here. What's going on?"

The Inspector is silent for so long that for a moment, the white-haired girl believes that he has left.

"Why don't you tell me what's going on, Miss Walker? I would do so myself if only I knew. It seems that both you and the Head Nurse prefer to keep secrets from me."

Allen goes rigid, her face a mask of terror as she digests the man's words. She is grateful that he cannot see her right now, for he would surely notice her discomfort.

 _He can't possibly…_  "What are you insinuating, Inspector?"

"I am merely suggesting that you are pregnant, Miss Walker, and have been since you have been back at the Order. It's strange that you didn't find it prudent to tell us."

The young woman closes her eyes, swallowing her dread as Leverrier shatters her composure. She is grateful that he cannot see her, at least, for she is certain that he would only use it as more evidence against her. Somehow, he would be able to spin her tears into a convenient way of proving her guilt. She is sure of it.

When she doesn't respond, the man continues talking. "I saw your file, though the Head Nurse tried valiantly to keep it hidden. It seems you and her are very close, aren't you?"

"Leave her out of this."

"…I didn't intend to bring her into it. She will get in trouble for impudence, however. It doesn't bode well for any of you to lie straight to my face. Ultimately she will not be terminated, so long as she stays out of trouble from now on. The Order can't afford to be losing members left and right, not with the way the war is going right now. We're short on exorcists as it is."

Allen bites her lip, resisting the urge to ask sardonically why she's here, then.

"Anyway, it seems that the time you spent with the Noah Clan was even more eventful than you let on. Would you care to explain what actually happened in greater detail? Or perhaps you should tell me the truth about how you escaped this time."

Maybe if she ignores him, he will leave her alone and come back later—though Allen knows there is a slim chance of that happening, if there is one at all. She doubts that Leverrier will give her a moment of peace now that he has her right where he wants her. Her survival in here depends entirely on her resilience to his questioning.

"Tell me, Miss Walker…was the child in your womb sired by a Noah? Given the timing of the pregnancy written on your chart, I would guess yes. Which one was it?"

Her tears burn her cheeks as they slide silently down her face, but the white-haired girl doesn't bother to wipe them off. More of them will only take their place.

Leverrier sighs on the other side of the door. "I'll take your silence as a confirmation."

"You know nothing."

Allen is taken aback by the venom in her own tone; she can feel Neah's presence lingering in the back of her mind, and can sense the Noah's festering rage at the Inspector as acutely as her own misery and frustration. His emotions mix with her own, leaving her uncertain as to whether or not it is actually her speaking.

Thankfully, Leverrier doesn't seem to notice her shift in mood; he most likely interprets it as her own repressed anger leaking out. "I know much more than you think I do, I assure you. As an Inspector, it's my duty to ensure that everything is running efficiently at Headquarters—and I know something else about you, as well."

Her nerves eat away at her patience. "What?" she snaps. "What are you talking about?"

"…All in good time, my dear. As I've said before, I would like to be sure of myself before making any rash judgments. Why do you think you are being kept in such a hospitable environment?"

"…What do you want from me, Inspector? If you know that I'm pregnant, then you must be able to guess what happened. Why treat me like a criminal?"

"For the same reason I do everything: to protect the Black Order. As it stands now, you are an anomaly. Your Innocence restored itself and closed the hole in your heart, you survived a confrontation with and capture by the Noah, and now, you have returned to us pregnant out of wedlock. It's enough to make anyone wonder whether or not you have betrayed the Order. You shouldn't take it personally."

"I would never—"

"Save your declarations of innocence for later. They will not do you any good now."

The back of her eyes burn with renewed tears, but the white-haired girl refuses to let them fall. This is her worst nightmare coming true—the Order's top officials believing, or at least suspecting, that she has turned traitor. In reality, she is the last person who would do such a thing. She has promised her life to this place, and now they are treating her like any other commoner suspected of wrongdoing. She understands on a certain level why they are being so careful—she remembers the tragedy of Suman Dark better than anyone—but this does not soften the blow of the betrayal she feels.

What is going to happen to her now, then? Will she stand trial? Will she be tortured, or forced to undergo an abortion? Her future looks exceptionally bleak.

When she says nothing for a solid minute, the young woman hears Leverrier sigh. "For what it's worth, Miss Walker, I am sorry for the behavior of that guard who escorted you here earlier. A pregnant woman, even one such as you who has been suspected of betraying her own kind, should never be handled so callously and with little regard for her safety. Anyway, right now I suggest you get some rest—after eating, of course. It's been a few hours since you ate breakfast, hasn't it?"

Allen flinches when the locks on her door start to rattle, causing bright light to spill into the room. The white-haired girl squints in discomfort, staring suspiciously at the person who has brought her food.

She hasn't seen this man before, but something about him strikes her as familiar. His face is kind enough, she supposes, and he gives her a gentle smile as he sets the plate down on the floor.

"Thank you," she says, nodding at the man.

He nods back at her, his smile widening. Allen almost smiles back—but then, as the man turns around to leave, she swears that for a split second, his eyes had glowed gold.

But of course, she reasons, she must be seeing things.

* * *

Tyki inhales deeply, taking a large drag from his cigarette that nearly burns through a third of the tobacco.

Oh, well. This is why he had bought two packs from that old peddler the last time he had gone out to the city; he's been smoking a lot more lately, after all. He needs to stock up if he wants to avoid temptation.

The Noah tries not to think about why that is, for he is sure that doing so will only open up another medium for thought that he really doesn't want to consider. His life has been insufferably boring lately, with nothing to do except wait and restrain himself at the Earl's behest. He hasn't even killed an exorcist since…

…since Allen had left him. He doesn't believe the two events are correlated, however. As of right now, the Earl is focused more on reconnaissance than destruction. Laying siege on the Black Order Headquarters, no matter how badly he wants to, would be frowned upon by his master.

So, in spite of how tempting the thought of going after Allen Walker is, Tyki knows that he is forbidden to do so.

Hence the increased rate of smoking; it helps to calm him, to temporarily alleviate his bloodthirsty urges and reduce his stress. And, on some level, it helps to take his mind off of the white-haired girl, too.

A knock on his door causes the Noah to flinch in surprise, and he frowns heavily. _It'd better not be those twins again. I don't think I can deal with one more awful rant about that General._ "Come in."

Tyki doesn't see who it is until he turns to look—and, when he does, his cigarette falls from his grasp.

" _Allen_?"

The young woman is standing right in the middle of his room, looking just as she had on the day she escaped. Her hair curls endearingly up at the tips, the subtle waves framing her face.

The Noah of Pleasure is struck speechless. He nearly darts over to her, but restrains himself from doing so. What is she doing here? Had she decided to come back because of her Noah?

Why had she come to see  _him_ , of all people?

He opens his mouth to ask her why, but then, to his confusion, she merely giggles. On a dime, Tyki's open-mouthed gape devolves into a piercing glare as Allen transforms back into the visage of a familiar woman.

"Lulu Bell," he mutters, the name stinging like acid on his tongue. "How clever of you. Might I add that you're looking particularly feline today?"

"Is that a compliment?"

"I suppose it would be to you. Is it?"

"Of course," she says, her voice as smooth as silk and deceivingly deadly. "Please, Tyki, don't be so sour. I just wanted to see if you would be foolish enough to fall for it. Wisely said you would."

"Did he, now? I suppose that's the only reason why you've chosen to bother me today, then?"

"No." Lulu Bell, like the cat she is, slinks around his room and over to his bed, making herself far too comfortable for his liking. He's itching to throw her out, especially in light of the stunt she has just pulled, but Tyki isn't too keen on starting a family scuffle. He is sure that the others would take her side, anyway.

He leans back in his chair, sighing in resignation as he lights another cigarette and ignores the one that has burned a hole in his carpet. "Well then, speak up," he says, eager to have the female Noah leave his room as soon as possible. "Don't sugarcoat anything on my behalf."

"I wasn't planning on it." Lulu Bell crosses her legs, pointedly checking her nails before speaking. "As you know, Lord Millennium has commanded me to spy on the Black Order. He's very concerned about their plans."

"Obviously."

"He's also concerned about the Fourteenth."

Tyki's eyes widen fractionally, but he retains most of his composure. "Is that so? Well, I'm sure you're doing a fine job."  _What is she trying to say? Is she just rubbing this in my face?_  It wouldn't surprise him in the slightest. Lulu Bell does seem to thoroughly enjoy making others uncomfortable or angry, almost as much as he does.

"I am. And I also learned something very interesting today. Do you want to know what it is?"

The Noah of Pleasure bites his tongue, restraining himself from simply asking about the white-haired girl. If this is Lulu Bell's way of taunting him about Allen Walker without fear of retaliation, then it's certainly working. "Something devious, I'm sure."

The feline woman grins at him, the gesture sly and far from being kind or familial. It even sends chills up  _his_  spine. "I'm sure you'll find this intriguing as well, Tyki. That Walker girl, the one you're so infatuated with…"

Tyki stiffens, barely stopping himself from pouncing on the woman across from him.

"…She isn't doing so well. In fact, she's even being held prisoner by her own people—and for a very strange reason. I heard it mentioned while eavesdropping that she is pregnant…"

And just like that, Tyki's composure shatters. He openly gapes at Lulu Bell, searching desperately for any sign that she is lying.

He finds none.

His heart hammers away in his chest, aching as though it has cracked in half.

"…and that the child was sired by a Noah."

That last line is the metaphorical nail in the coffin. The arm of his chair cracks within his grip, and if he had been fairly apathetic in appearance towards the woman's provocation before, that act has vanished now.

"But of course, you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Tyki does not say a word to stop her when she leaves; though he had been brimming with annoyance at her only moments prior, he now finds isolation to be ideal for him. He can hardly believe the words that are rattling around in his skull.

_She's pregnant. Allen is pregnant…with my child…_

He isn't a fool. He had known the risks when they had sex—or, more accurately, when he forced himself upon her—but had irresponsibly acted on his emotions rather than his rational mind. He knows that he has already tainted his relationship with the white-haired girl, no matter how much he regrets doing so. But now, the problem has just added another player—and, even worse, the mother of his child is surely suffering because of it.

Because of him.

He doesn't know what he can do with the Earl's authority hanging over him, but he knows that he will do something. He will not sit idly by while the Black Order tears everything away from him—even the child that he had not known is a factor until now, and whose very existence may very well be a lie.

Even if the child is not real, the fact that Allen Walker may be threatened by the very people he has sworn to destroy is enough to make him want to go against the Earl's commands.

He has to.


	28. A Method of Compromise

Allen sleeps fitfully that night, unable to find comfort in a place that seems intent on destroying hers. What else should she expect, being in what is essentially a jail cell? It may not be as disgusting as the dingy alley in that town she stayed in, but in many ways it is far worse. At least in Gdynia, she had been freer than she was in the Ark; though her situation had been unfortunate, what kept her going was the belief that she would make it to the Order, that she would be welcomed back with open, familiar arms.

What a pipe dream  _that_  had been. The white-haired girl cannot remember why she had thought it was a possibility. It may sound cynical, but she is finally beginning to understand the depths of Kanda's pessimism. After living through her experiences, she realizes just how easy it is to fall into irreversible despair.

Still, she refuses to give in.

In the morning—or what her brain interprets as morning; she isn't sure what time it really is—she is roused from her sleep by the distant echoes of a conversation down the hall.

_"You only get five minutes, okay? And no funny business, or else we'll remove you by force. Inspector Leverrier doesn't want you getting too comfortable. The only reason you're being allowed to see her is because he doesn't want you to cause an uproar."_

_"That's the reason, huh? You're a worse liar than he is."_

_"Watch your mouth! Just be quick about it, okay?"_

_"Yeah, yeah. Now shut up. If I don't even listen to that clown, what makes you think I'd listen to you?"_

Allen would be able to recognize that deeply antagonistic voice anywhere. She sighs in relief, and her heart swells with brief happiness that he has actually come to see her. But on the other hand, she wonders with a cringe just how Kanda Yuu had managed to convince Leverrier—and the guards—to let him see her. Call it skepticism, but the young woman cannot imagine that the Japanese man had used nonviolent or non-threatening means to get his way. From the sound of it, he hadn't drawn Mugen on anyone, so at least she knows that no one had gotten hurt…hopefully.

In any case, she is happy that there is someone here who is on her side, who will defend her and help raise her spirits in the midst of this bleak situation. It's probably the only bright point in her life right now.

As soon as she hears the man's footsteps stop outside the door, the white-haired girl rushes forward, placing her palms flat against the cool metal. It's the closest she can get to human contact right now, and she will take all that she can get.

"Kanda?" She says his name in a whisper. On some level, she is worried this is all a figment of her imagination. She's hoping that her slow descent into madness will take a bit longer. "Is that you?"

"It's me, Moyashi." His voice sounds strained, most likely from the great struggle of having to hold in his emotions—primarily his anger. If the guards are watching, he has to be cautious regarding his feelings. A loss of temper would not be good for either of them.

"How did you get in here?" she asks. "Won't you get in trouble for talking to me? I thought that Leverrier said he wouldn't let anyone see me until he thought it was safe…"

"You shouldn't believe anything he says to you. He's treating you like a possible enemy—obviously he isn't going to tell you everything. Anyway, I don't think he would have let me see you unless he was watching or listening in. I bet he's hoping that we'll spill some dark secrets. How stupid does he think we are, anyway?"

Allen bites her lip. "I don't have any secrets," she whispers, feeling guilty for even bothering to lie to Kanda. "Not anymore."

"…He knows, doesn't he?" Kanda doesn't need to say anything else for her to understand what he is talking about.

"About me being…with child? Yes…but I'm sure there's something else he's not telling me."

"There always is. The Order likes to berate us and call us traitors for keeping secrets, but they have no problem keeping them from us so long as it's convenient for them. As long as we keep obeying their commands like the dogs we are, they're happy."

"You can't betray a slave," the white-haired girl whispers, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.

"…No. You can't." Kanda sighs, and Allen can practically feel his piercing gaze through the metal wall that separates them.

"Even so…even if we're just slaves, I won't hate them. I can't. If it's a choice between my own freedom and the world, I'll choose the world every time."

The samurai scoffs. "I know you will. That's why you're an idiot. I fight for them because that's what I do, but you have this ridiculous savior complex. Why do you think I hated you so much when we first met?"

A long pause falls over the pair, but eventually Kanda works up the courage to ask the question she knows has been on his mind since he got here.

"Moya—Allen…I know you wouldn't do anything to betray the Order. That's not who you are. You care about people, even when they couldn't care less about you. And I wanted to ask…you told me before that you care about  _me_ , but…you never said how."

"Neither did you."

"Quit playing games, all right? I know you don't owe me anything, and this is probably the last thing on your mind right now, but it would be nice to know where I stand." Kanda sounds as if he is in physical pain from trying to force the words out. Allen can't blame him; being emotionally open is not a trait he possesses.

She swallows the lump in her throat, finding it far too difficult to explain her feelings when even she doesn't truly understand them. She is only sure of one thing.

"You're wrong about something," she says. "It has been on my mind. I meant what I said, Kanda. I care about you. But…as it is, with the way I am and what happened…I don't think I can tell you more than that. You probably don't want to hear this, but I need time to figure it out—to figure everything out. The good news is that it looks like I have plenty of it."

The white-haired girl can still sense the Japanese man standing on the other side of the door, but he doesn't respond for a good while. "You're right," he finally says. "That wasn't what I wanted to hear."

Allen bows her head in shame and guilt, cursing herself for being so careless and selfish—

"But I'm trying to understand. I still don't really know what happened to you while you were gone—besides the obvious—but I know it's not something you want to explain. I can wait; it's far from being the worst thing that's happened to me. And…as much as it may not seem like it, I trust you."

Before she realizes it, Allen's lips pull up into a teasing smile. She can sense Kanda's internal conflict even through the door; she almost laughs at how uncomfortable he must be with the level of openness he is displaying to her.

"Look, don't go thinking that you're special or anything, though," he growls. "You may think that I'm always an ass, but that doesn't mean I can't try to understand. I'm not completely inept at—"

"Kanda," she interrupts, all but commanding him to stop talking. Her plea for silence goes unsaid, but not unheard.

"What?"

"Thank you."

"…Yeah. Whatever. I'm not going to say 'you're welcome' with a grin, if that's what you want." The white-haired girl pictures him blushing profusely.

"It's not. I just wanted to let you know."

"Tch. Just keep going along like you always do, okay, Moyashi? You were always the most annoyingly optimistic person I knew. You'll get out of here soon. They can't keep you locked up forever, after all."

Her smile turns sad, but she doesn't say anything she knows the samurai doesn't want to hear.  _Yes, they can_ , she thinks to herself.  _They can do anything they want_.

And the prospect of being unable to stop them, of feeling loyalty and a sense of duty towards the people who will no doubt use it against her, is what frightens her the most.

"Your time's up," she hears an approaching guard say, and against his better judgment Kanda releases an annoyed scoff.

"Did I ask you to keep track of my time?" he snaps. "Back off."

The man hesitates, probably unused to dealing with an exorcist who resists being told what to do. "Please don't make this harder than it has to be, Exorcist. We don't wish to remove you by force, but we will." The prospect of doing so sounds unappealing to the guard, however. Allen senses that it's more of a formality than anything else. It'll take more than one or two guards to force Kanda out of here if he's determined to stay.

Apparently the Japanese man can sense so, too. "I'd like to see you try," he snarls.

Before the situation can get out of hand, the young woman decides to intervene. "It's okay, Kanda," she says, worried that he will get  _himself_ thrown into a cell if he keeps this up. "I don't want you to get in trouble on my behalf. You've done that enough already. You should go."

His silence speaks volumes, and the white-haired girl can picture him staring daggers at the guard, his hand resting on Mugen's hilt as he ponders whether or not to draw the katana on the poor man.

She sighs. "You know I'll be fine. I always bounce back, don't I? Besides, I'm a little tired, anyway. You wouldn't want to keep me up, right?"

"You heard her," the guard says, the strength in his voice offset by its slight trembling.

"I'm sure this will work out soon," Allen adds. "Then we can talk face-to-face again."

"…Yeah," Kanda finally mumbles. "You're probably right."

Allen smiles a painful smile as she hears the footsteps walk away from her cell, and she tells herself over and over that what she had said is true. Yet, she cannot envision a circumstance in which Leverrier would ever let her talk to Kanda—or any of her friends, for that matter, including Cross—face-to-face again. If he discovers any more about her, she can kiss everything goodbye—her friends, her title as an exorcist, her home…perhaps even her life. It may sound cynical, but if the Inspector discovers that she is the host of the Fourteenth and the biological granddaughter of a Noah, she stands to lose everything. She refuses to let that happen; she will fight against it with every fiber of her being.

The only problem is that she has absolutely no idea how to stop him from finding out.

* * *

_One month later_ …

Tyki creeps silently through the underbrush, using his power to the fullest so as to avoid attracting any unwanted attention to himself. He could just kill whoever sees him, but he doesn't know whether or not the Order's guards have ways of communicating with each other. Surely they have golems, and it would be noticed if any of them were to suddenly go missing. He wants to cause as little commotion as possible; therefore, he is aiming to not kill anyone, including—much to his chagrin—the otherwise disposable Finders.

Above all else, the Noah does not want to let slip that the Order was attacked yet again—because an attack is not his intent. All Tyki wants is to slip in and out of the castle undetected, with Allen Walker at his side. If he is to steer clear of the Earl's wrath and keep the white-haired girl out of harm's way, then no one must learn of his involvement. It has to look like she had escaped, and he knows that she would never harm another human on purpose, especially one whom she considers an ally—even if her supposed "allies" are the ones imprisoning her.

He probably doesn't have any room to talk, though. What he had done to her is much worse, and his heart aches just thinking about it. What he is doing now cannot begin to make up for what he's done—and what he will do afterwards, how he will manage to keep this a secret from his family, he has yet to figure out. Tyki is grateful to Lulu Bell for telling him—to his surprise, she had not said anything about it since, and from the looks of it no one else is aware of his predicament—but if the feline woman had been lying…

No. She would not lie to him; there's nothing in it for her. He refuses to think about it, though he is surprised that she had not been more angry at him. He would think getting the Earl's enemy pregnant would be something she sees as unforgivable, but perhaps she has a soft spot for him.

In any case, as long as he keeps his mind focused on the task at hand, and ignores the possibility of the child not being his, everything should work out fine.

It has to. She has been away from him for over a month, almost a month and a half. There's no way someone else could have gotten her pregnant in such a short span of time. The mere thought of it sets his blood boiling, but he smothers the outburst of emotion in favor of retaining a cool head.

The Noah of Pleasure proceeds towards the base of the Order, eyeing the large castle warily.

 _All I have to do is phase upwards through the cliff, then continue forward underground until I reach her._  It should be easy. He can feel her presence from here, telling him which way to go to find her. The warm glow is the same as always, if not a bit more potent. He would blame it on her prolonged absence, but somehow Tyki knows that this isn't the case. The Noah within her has gotten stronger; it calls to him, making his blood heat up with both excitement and fury. His memories of her and of the person inhabiting her are so different, yet one of them clearly wins out this time.

He takes a step out from behind the tree trunk and makes his way further towards the base of the castle, his skin crawling with anticipation as he edges nearer to the place that harbors her…

Tyki hears the gunshot only an instant before he crumples to the ground, the back of his knee igniting in excruciating pain. He makes a choked sound, gasping in both agony and shock at the sudden sensation.

_What…what is this? How did I get hit? By who? This is no normal gunshot wound…the bullet would have gone right through me…_

"The Third disciple, is it? I figured that you would be the one involved. You were always a problem child from the very beginning. I knew the culprit would show his face around here sooner or later, anyway. It was only a matter of time."

Tyki hisses as blood seeps out of the wound; he is too caught up in his private hell to turn and match a face to the deep voice behind him. "Who are you?" he manages to croak out.

The sound of leaves being crushed underfoot by his attacker grows nearer. "You still haven't answered my question, Noah. Are you the Third disciple or not?"

The voice is in front of him now, and Tyki forces his eyes open to stare at the man standing above him. The first thing his eyes fall upon, of course, is the man's exorcist coat.

 _Ah…an exorcist. Of course. That explains why my knee is in so much pain, and why the bullet hit me. It must be made of Innocence. No doubt it will take far longer to heal, as well_. "If you must know," he says, "yes. I am the Third, the Noah with the memory of Pleasure. And you are?"

The red-haired man considers him for a moment, his only visible eye shining with deep thought as Tyki stares up at him expectantly. Then, he snorts, and without answering he fires off another bullet—this time into the Noah's other knee.

Torment blossoms anew in his other leg, and he cries out again, but this time he bites his tongue so as to smother the sound. "You bastard…" he chokes out, glaring up at the exorcist with all the hatred he can muster.

The man goes on as though nothing had happened—as though he hadn't just shot Tyki twice in the last two minutes. He takes the time to light a cigarette, casually leaning against a tree as he stares down at the Noah with a sadistic glare. "You really are an idiotic ass, Noah. Did you think I would let you off the hook so easily?"

Before Tyki can answer, another bullet buries itself in his thigh, and the pain is so intense that it causes him to draw blood from his own lip as he stifles his scream. His Noah flares up in anger, wanting nothing more than to tear the flesh from the exorcist's bones, but he tries to smother it; he doesn't plan on abandoning his goal of not killing others so easily.

"Stop," he croaks out, though what he really wants is to curse the man to all hell. "…Please. I want to talk to you."

The exorcist guffaws at him, his glare deepening. "You've caught me in a bad mood, unfortunately. I had to practically sneak out of the Order so I could buy cigarettes, so I'll make this quite simple for you: why should I listen, after everything you've done to my apprentice? What's to stop me from killing you right here, you filth?"

Tyki's eyes widen, and for a brief moment the pain in his body vanishes due to sheer shock _. His apprentice? He must be talking about Allen…so this is the infamous General Cross Marian? It's no wonder the twins and the Millennium Earl hate him so much. With that gun, he's quite formidable—and being a General, he must have something else up his sleeve_. It takes him a few moments before he realizes that the red-haired man is still waiting for an answer. "Allen Walker is your apprentice?"

He hears a click issue from the man's gun. "Yes, she is. And there is something you should know about me. I'm sure the Earl and the rest of your family have told you about my exploits, but what they haven't told you is that I don't take very kindly to scum who treat women like dolls—especially when said women are those who I've sworn to protect."

Out of the corner of his eye, Tyki sees Cross aim the gun at his head, and before he realizes what he's doing, he blurts out, "Wait!"

The General pauses for barely a moment, but it's enough for Tyki to be able to gather his thoughts.

"I can save her."

"What?"

Tyki bites his lip. "You heard me. I know what the Order thinks of her, how they're imprisoning her for being pregnant—"

"Are you trying to get yourself killed? Should I ask how it is you know that?"

"Listen to me!" he exclaims, forgetting for a moment that there is a gun pointed at his head. "I can break her out of the Order. That's why I came here." He tilts his head upwards, meeting Cross's eye with his own. He tries to appear as humble as he can, placing all of his built-up anguish and guilt from the last few months into his gaze. His eyes are practically pleading with the man standing before him, and for the first time Tyki finds that he doesn't care about looking fearsome or powerful in the company of someone who could kill him. He is on his knees, with both of his legs bleeding, and at the unexpected mercy of a General of the Black Order. If there were ever a time to show some humility, it would be now.

Then, to his absolute shock, Cross _laughs_.

"You can save her?" he mocks. "How? By killing off all the Finders and scientists who try to stop you? By kidnapping and raping her again?" The venom in Cross's tone causes Tyki to flinch, as does his accusation of rape, no matter how true he knows it is.

The red-haired man presses the barrel of his gun to Tyki's chest, his finger resting casually on the trigger. The golden-eyed man nearly panics, but takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"I don't want to kill anyone today. That wasn't my intention when I came here—you have my word. All I want is to get her out. I swear."

Cross's eyes narrow as he scrutinizes the Noah, not knowing what to make of his unexpected attitude. "Why?" he spits. "What's in it for you? Do you want her to be your plaything again? Has your life as a minion of the Earl really grown so tedious, Noah?"

The accusation incites a flame of indignation in the curly-haired man, but at the same time he knows that Cross is right. Memories of what he had done to the white-haired girl run through his mind, bringing along with them the emotions of remorse that surface when he does. In spite of everything, no matter how miserable she had been, her presence had mattered more to him than anything else. Even in her agony, Tyki had preferred to keep her with him for his own desire.

Shame isn't nearly provocative enough to describe what he feels when he thinks of her.

"No," he whispers, refusing to tear his eyes from Cross's heated gaze. "That's not it. I…she has suffered enough at the hands of others. She doesn't deserve to have those monsters she calls allies imprison her."

"Monster. That's an interesting word, don't you think?"

"I know how it must sound...but it's true."

"That's it? You aren't trying to free her for your own gain?"

"I…" Though he knows it is the wrong thing to say, Tyki knows that he cannot lie—not unless he wants to get shot again. "Yes. I'm selfish. I do want her for myself, but it's more than that. I…deeply regret what I did to her…I don't wish to see her suffer anymore. If I can free her from the Order, I will."

The red-haired man stares into his eyes, looking for any indication of dishonesty or wrongdoing from the Noah. Tyki knows—prays, though it is out of character for him to do so—that he will not find any, for he believes that right now he is more sincere than he has ever been. He regrets his actions towards Allen more than anything else, even with the part of him that still feels he is justified.

"You don't seem like you're lying," Cross concludes, speaking under his breath as though working out a puzzle. "I like to think that I'm a good judge of character—even for you Noah. I don't believe that all of you are inherently evil, but you certainly take the cake." His voice is calm at first, as is his expression, but that soon devolves into a glare so intense that Tyki believes it could melt glass. "Are you really that  _twisted_ , you imbecile?" he spits, the barrel of his gun pressing deeper into Tyki's chest. "You appear genuine in your concern, yet you still admit to having a selfish desire for my apprentice. Has lust blinded you? Or are your emotions real? Don't tell me that you feel _regret_  for all the things you've done to her! Have you actually developed  _feelings_  for the girl you tormented?"

Tyki digs his nails into the ground as once again, he is assaulted by memories—of every time he had been with her, of how he had felt more alive than he had for all of his time as a Noah. The piece of him that had been missing, the gaping hole that he had been—and still is—trying to fill with cigarettes, with a human occupation and human friends, with a high-brow lifestyle and well-dressed women…it had seemed so irrelevant, so unimportant while Allen had been under his care. Her presence had obsessed him, drawn him to her as no one else had done before.

Is it because of who she is? Has her connection to his Noah's past incarnation and her being a host to the Fourteenth blinded him? Is her familiar, superficial appearance the only reason why he follows her? Perhaps that is part of it, or at least it had been in the beginning. But Tyki finds that he likes the differences about her, the subtle changes that he can tell are a product of her unique personality and distinct appearance.

He values her as she is, not as what she once was.

"I don't know," he says. He shakes his head, frustrated with his innate tendency to deny such an accusation. "…Yes. I think so. I just want to get her out. I wish for her to be safe. I can help you save her. You're her mentor, right? You must want her to escape as well." He waits for the next bullet, for Cross to finally decide to end his existence before he can cause any more damage to the ones he cares about—but it never comes, and as the Noah stares into the red-haired man's eye he realizes why.

The exorcist is still glaring at him, but this time it is with a gaze of objective judgment. Clearly, the General still doesn't trust him, but he is at least considering what he has to say, and this is far more than what Tyki knows he deserves.

As he watches, Cross raises his empty hand. He makes several unidentifiable hand motions above the Noah's head, reciting inaudible phrases under his breath as he does so. Tyki cannot be sure, but the phrases sound as though they are being recited in Latin.

_An incantation? What on Earth is he doing?_

Tyki only becomes more befuddled when a bright blue light erupts around him, bathing his body in a mysterious aura for barely more than a second. It doesn't hurt, but it leaves the golden-eyed man more than a little confused. "What did you do to me?"

"Nothing of significance. I learned it from an old friend who had quite an extensive knowledge of spells that could bind the Noah Clan—he was a proud member of it."

"The Fourteenth," Tyki hisses.

Cross grins smugly at him, paying no mind to the golden-eyed man's display of anger. "Yes. If you are to try to kill or overtly harm anyone from the Order, you will be transported back to the Ark."

"Magic?" Tyki whispers, examining his body for any signs of change. He looks normal, and he feels normal. It looks as though Cross hasn't done anything at all.

"In a sense," the exorcist tells him. "Now hurry up and remove the bullets. You heal fast, don't you, even when the bullets in question are made of Innocence?"

Shocked beyond belief, Tyki stares up at the red-haired man with wide eyes. "Does this mean you believe me?"

"Believe you? To an extent, yes. Trust you? No. This just means I am going to use you. I don't trust you in the slightest, Noah. The Fourteenth warned me about you a long time ago. I have no doubt that although your vessel has changed, the Third's presence is still as strong as ever. However…I can't say I'm not disappointed. You don't strike me as being remotely similar to how Neah described you—at least not right now. In any case, I'm willing to use your abilities to free my apprentice. It will come in handy—but that's where this arrangement ends."

"And then what?"

The man's eye narrows, its shadowy gleam speaking volumes about how much he detests the Noah kneeling before him. "And then the war will resume."

* * *

The warm water, so much like rain, calms her nerves. It soothes the tension in her muscles and the stress etched deep into her bones. Allen sighs as the droplets hit her skin, closing her eyes and allowing herself to believe for a moment that she is back in her old room rather than locked in an underground prison. The illusion is effective for a few seconds, but reality bleeds back into the forefront of her mind soon enough.

Her black hand, with most of it still covered in the binds, absentmindedly descends to her stomach. She caresses the swollen bump that has begun to show. If her calculations are correct, then it has been almost one month since her imprisonment and four months since she had fallen pregnant.

And it definitely shows. She can tell when she twists and turns sideways in the mirror, and even when she faces herself, as the cloth stretches just the smallest bit near her belly button. It makes her more than self-conscious; what will the others, who don't know of her predicament, think of her when they see it?  _If_  they see it?

She doesn't care to find out.

On top of that, what will happen to her when she goes into labor? With the way things are progressing, it doesn't seem as though the Order wants to get rid of the fetus growing inside her. She wonders if they are planning something else, something far more nefarious than what she dreads happening to her once again. What else could they possibly do with her unborn child?

It makes her want to gag just thinking about it.

The white-haired girl shivers as she turns the water off and the cold air hits her pale skin. She quickly wraps herself in a towel and goes back to the main room of her cell. She dresses with all deliberate speed, keeping her eyes averted from her stomach as much as possible.

When she's dressed in a more comfortable set of clothes, the young woman turns around. She does a double take when she sees something sitting on the bedside table—something that had not been there before she went to take a shower.

_What the…?_

It's the new exorcist uniform, the same one that Inspector Leverrier had given to her when she first arrived.  _He or one of the guards must have brought it in while I was bathing._ The thought of a strange man coming into her cell while she is naked in the next room over makes her skin crawl with unease, but she tries to push that feeling aside in favor of her confusion.

Why had Leverrier bothered to give it back to her at all? As far as she's concerned, she may as well be an outcast. What reason could there be to want her to have an exorcist coat?

_Is this his way of trying to make peace?_

Though she is still understandably wary, Allen eyes the coat with aesthetic appreciation as she walks toward it.  _It_ is _nice, I suppose_ , she thinks. It's a lighter shade than her previous uniform, made with dark gray cloth and bordered by silver trim. She reaches out to skim her fingers over the material, to test if it is actually as soft as it looks.

As soon as she does, she jerks her hand back. The white-haired girl cries out as pain lances through her fingers and runs down the length of her arm. It incites a headache that leaves her temples throbbing fit to burst, then settles as a deep pulse of agony in her abdomen.

_What…what is this?_

She squeezes her eyes shut, cradling her burning hand to her chest as the ache throbs in her very core. Slowly, she opens her eyes to survey the damage done to her hand, and promptly stiffens in shock.

For a brief second—so brief that even Allen questions her eyes—her skin is tinged gray, darkened to the familiar hue of…a Noah's skin.

_Did…did the uniform do this to me when I touched it? But why? It…it partially awakened my Noah? What's it made of?_

" **What do you think it's made of, Allen?"** Neah chimes in.  **"What else could elicit such a response from us?"**

There's only one thing she can think of.

Innocence. The Innocence of exorcists who have died or who haven't yet been born, leaving behind temporarily unrefined material that is toxic to Noah. But then…why would Leverrier have it sewn into a coat? And why would he leave it in her room? Why would he give it to her in the first place, and implore her to where it?

" _I know much more than you think I do."_

" _I know something else about you, as well."_

Allen grows cold as she recalls the Inspector's words. _No…it can't be…Leverrier can't know about me being the Fourteenth…_

_Can he?_

The young woman nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound of a large  _boom_. There are echoes of a scuffle on the floors above her, accompanied by the surprised shouts of several Order members. Beyond that, there is little else that tells her what is going on—at least until the noises begin to descend, growing louder as they near her cell.

 _What's going on? Is Headquarters being attacked again?_  Her first thought is of Tyki, and her mind swirls into a panic as she experiences an uncanny sense of déjà vu.  _No! He wouldn't come back here so soon, would he? I'm powerless with these bindings!_

Pounding footsteps cause her heart to race, and her breath comes faster as the person reaches her cell…

The door rattles, the noise reverberating around the room. Allen flinches in response, backing away from the door as far as she can get.

She stiffens completely when she hears the person speak.

"Step aside, idiot apprentice!" a familiar rugged voice says. "We don't have a lot of time."

" _Master_?" Allen understands what he means when the door begins to glow faintly, and the locks holding it closed start to shake. A few seconds later, the door flies open on its hinges, the locks broken by the man who had come to rescue her.

Cross grins devilishly at her, scratching the back of his head. Timcanpy flutters around him, the golden golem's wings flapping happily at the sight of the white-haired girl.

"Master, what are you doing?" she gasps, dumbfounded as the red-haired man storms right into her cell. "What's going on? The Order is going to bury you for this—"

"You're leaving," he says matter-of-factly.

"What?"

Cross ignores her protests, and before she can say another word, he makes several indistinguishable hand motions.

" _Exsolvo_."

The young woman flinches at the sound of something snapping, and she looks down at her arm to see the bindings unravel, pooling on the floor as useless scraps of paper. Allen stares at her arm in amazement, feeling the familiar hum of her Innocence like an old friend.

"Master…how did you…?"

"No time to explain," he quickly says. "They'll be coming after me now. With any luck, I'll be able to convince them I'm innocent. It's a good thing I had some help breaking you out, then, but I'm afraid we have to go our separate ways. Timcanpy will help you." Cross nods at the golden golem, who floats over to settle upon Allen's head.

Dumbstruck, she merely stares at the General. "Wait, Master! What's going on? Who helped you?"

At that moment, an ear-splitting roar can be heard down the hallway.

_"Cross!"_

"Damn—that's my cue. No time," the red-haired man says, casually lighting a cigarette. "This is goodbye for now, Allen. Make sure you protect that arm of yours. It'll come in handy later." He leans in closer, placing his lips right beside her ear. "And remember to use the Ark, idiot apprentice. You're going to need it—and tell Neah I technically didn't fail, won't you? Tim?"

 **"You bastard…"** Neah growls from within her.

"Master! Wait—" Before she can get another word out, the room around her disappears.

* * *

Allen is disoriented for a few seconds, unable to process her surroundings at first with how shell-shocked she is from the unexpected transition. The world around her is dark, but the shuffling of her feet elicits crunching noises that she places as fallen leaves. The white-haired girl realizes with some surprise that she is on the outskirts of the Order, on the border of where the forest meets the road.

But she cannot go back. Cross had made that perfectly clear, as had the commotion that had occurred prior to her release.

_What…am I supposed to do now? I have nowhere to go to find asylum, apart from…_

_Apart from the Ark._  That must have been what Cross meant—that she would be able to find safety in Neah's room in the Ark for as long as she needed, away from both the Earl and the Order. She would be safe until…until when? Until she gives birth? That would be months from now—does her mentor really expect her to stay away for so long?

From behind her she hears the distant sound of someone running; they aren't even trying to be stealthy, so hasty are they.

 _Is it a member of the Order? How did they find me already?_  She whips around to confront her pursuer, not keen on relinquishing the freedom that Cross had sacrificed himself to give her. However, a very familiar sensation greets her as the stranger nears, and Allen knows who it is before she sees his face.

Tyki Mikk.

She had just hoped she would never have to see him again so soon. Though she knows she will have to face him eventually, right now is not the right time. She has another person to worry about now—the unborn child in her womb. If she tries to fight him, who knows what could happen?

She doesn't meet his gaze at first, her eyes stubbornly fixated on the ground—but when she does it feels as though one of her nightmares has come true. She goes stiff, her limbs filling with lead as the Noah who had been haunting her for months approaches her. He stares at her intently, his golden eyes not piercing in their fury as she had expected, but rather full of…sadness, and even, if she isn't mistaken, longing.

But even so, she cannot help but see him as the Noah who had tried to destroy her, and she reacts accordingly. No matter how hard she tries, Allen cannot stop herself from shaking.

"Y-you…" she stutters, unable to finish the sentence. "Why are you here? How did you get here?"

"Your master helped me," he tells her. "He agreed to let me go if I helped you escape. I distracted everyone while he freed you."

His voice is as silken and deadly as ever, and with the sound of it, the young woman snaps. She does the only thing she can think of doing as he approaches her.

She turns tail and runs.

It's almost pathetic how quickly he catches her, and the white-haired girl resists the urge to vomit as his arms wrap around her. Tyki pulls her backwards into his chest, holding her close to him so that she cannot break free. Her first thought is that he is going to kill her, to finally silence the woman who had humiliated him and escaped from his prison.

But he doesn't do anything to hurt her—he merely holds her close, resting his chin on her shoulder and pinning her arms to her sides.

Her second thought is that he's come to violate her again. So she struggles harder, making repeated growls of protest when the Noah refuses to budge.

"Innocence, activate!"

Tyki stiffens upon hearing those words—but a few seconds later it is revealed that he has no need to worry. Though her arm gives off a faint glow, it refuses to transform, and her Crown Clown doesn't come to her aid.

_What's going on? Is it rejecting me? Is it…is it because I'm becoming a Noah?_

" **No. It's probably a psychological effect,"**  Neah tells her.  **"Try harder."**

She feels her arm twinge, but it is woefully unable to revert back into its weapon form. When she realizes that she can't summon the will to activate it, Allen only struggles harder and with more futile effort against the Noah of Pleasure.

"Let me  _go_!" she cries, straining against the man's strong hold. He doesn't say anything at first, but eventually, the young woman hears him utter one thing.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his breath tickling her ear and causing goose bumps to rise on her skin.

Then, without another word, he releases her. She doesn't step away immediately—she is too befuddled by his action—but within five seconds she bolts away, spinning around to face him with a wary glance.

"What are you doing here?" she says, her voice shaking.

His fingers flex as though wanting to reach out to her, but he stays where he is, instead digging his nails into the palms of his hands. "I came for you," he tells her, "…and for the child growing inside you."

Allen draws in a startled breath, her heart clenching at the reminder that this man is the father of her child. "How…? How did you…?"

"One of my family was spying on you. She told me what happened, how the Order was treating you like a criminal. I couldn't just sit by and—"

Before he can justify himself any further, the white-haired girl shocks both of them with her wrath.

"How  _dare_  you…" she hisses, her silver eyes piercing. "You think you've earned the right to be my savior? Why would Master work with  _you_ of all people?"

"Because I'm the only one who tried to help. He doesn't like me, if that's what you think—"

" _Shut up_!" she snaps, the sound effectively cutting him off. "Stop, please. I don't want your excuses, or your apologies—I don't need them. What I need is for you to leave me alone. I can't be around you now—you make me…you make me…"

"I make you what?"

She averts her eyes, ashamed of the fact that she's even admitting this to him. "You make me conflicted. Whenever I see you…I don't know what to think…" She wipes away the tear that has escaped her eye, and turns around to run once again.

Allen begins to panic when Tyki rushes after her, grabbing her wrist to stop her. Before she can get ahold of herself, she screams.

" _No_!" she yells, hurting her throat as snapshots of being kidnapped again run through her mind. " _Let go_!" She whips around to face him, tears streaking down her face all the while. " _Let me go_! After everything…after everything…I can't go back with you. Not now. Please…I can't face you yet. I can't—"

She's hysterical by this point, almost unable to form words through her hiccups. Tyki stares at her, his expression rightly horrified as the woman before him struggles to breathe.

"Allen—"

"After all the pain you put me through, every time you…I should hate you more than anything, but I can't stop wanting to forget. I want to find peace. I want…I want to forgive you…

"But now, with the pregnancy, and the nightmares…I can't sleep anymore, I can't eat without wanting to throw it all up. Because of what you did, because of how disgusting you made me feel. I'm…"

She looks back at the man in front of her, and flinches at what she sees. Tyki's expression is wounded, as though she had physically hurt him with her words. It almost gives her pause, but she still jerks her hand out of his grasp. And, to her surprise, he actually lets her do it.

Allen wipes her eyes as she walks away from him, her instinct to run now sapped by her emotional breakdown. She pauses at the side of the road.

" **Where are you going to go?"**  Neah asks her.

_I don't know. I don't care. Somewhere safe—anywhere but here._

The Ark appears in front of her, glowing brightly and beckoning her towards it. She takes a step forward, pausing when she hears Tyki step up behind her. She goes rigid when she hears his voice right beside her ear, his breath ghosting across the back of her neck.

"I won't take you, not if you don't want to go…but I will find you. Wherever you go, I'll find you again, girl. I won't lose…"

He doesn't finish his sentence. More tears flow down the girl's cheeks, and Allen bites her lip to stifle herself as she steps into the portal.

Tyki doesn't follow.


	29. A Sense of Unease

"Call. I win, don't I?"

Allen smiles cheekily as the men at the table proceed to gawk at her, their jaws hanging slack as she displays her cards. She can't imagine their surprise, having never been on the receiving end of the type of defeat she has bestowed upon them. Poker is her game, after all; she takes some degree of pride in the fact that she has never lost a game since perfecting her technique. (It may be cheating, but it still qualifies as technique in her book.) She supposes the shock is also underlain by embarrassment at the fact that she is a young woman; peoples' reactions to their defeat had been even more comical when she was a child. Her opponents had practically exploded with indignant humiliation back then.

Now, all they do is stare at her with expressions of pure disbelief.

"What the—?" the hairy one says, his dark eyes bulging out of their sockets. "How the hell did you pull that, lady?!"

"You've got to be bloody kidding me!" another one chimes in, his accent becoming even thicker with his combination of irritation and drunkenness. He throws his cards up in the air for dramatic effect, much to the chagrin of one of the customers who is passing by with drinks in his hands.

"The lass wins again," the third man adds on, his Irish brogue even more difficult to understand than his companions' familiar British ones. He is the only one of the group to retain a relatively calm demeanor in the face of defeat. As Allen smiles widely at them, he takes a large swig of beer, his eyes holding a wistful sort of melancholy. "Looks like we'll be havin' no more rounds tonight, boys. The woman's gone and taken all our money. They always say the pretty ones have the most venom."

The white-haired girl giggles, her cheeks heating up with embarrassment on behalf of the men she had bested—and a little bit of sympathy, too. "Don't worry," she reassures them. "I may have won everything from you, but I won't take it all. How's this?" She separates the pile of money into two halves, taking the larger portion for herself but leaving a generous amount to the three men—at least, generous compared to what anyone else would have done. "That should be enough for you all, right? I don't need much, anyway."

"Really?" the Irish one gasps, spilling some of his drink on the table. "Why, ya do have a heart, after all, don't you? Thanks, lass. I take back what I said earlier."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Thanks."

"No problem," she says, smiling at the three of them. She gathers up her partial winnings, stuffing all of it in her pockets. "Well, I should be going now. It was fun, but I've got to get back to my inn."

"What?" the Irishman bursts out. "No, stay a bit longer. You've been mighty generous with the three of us, so the least we could do is treat ya to a drink. Right, boys?"

The other two shrug, casting friendly glances in her direction.

Allen flushes, waving her hands in front of her. "Oh, no, it's fine. Really, you don't have to do that!"

"Why not? Oi, waiter! Three more beers for us men, and—what does a lady drink? Something classier than beer, for certain—maybe wine. Yes, a classy thing of wine for the lady!"

The white-haired girl nearly faints at the thought. "I must insist, sir, I shouldn't drink at all. I…"

"You what?"

She blushes, scratching the back of her head in embarrassment. "Well, you see, I…I have a problem…"

All three of them sigh in understanding, and one of the British men nods at her. "I get it. Trying to stay off the booze, eh? My uncle had a mean alcoholic streak. Not a nice guy when he's had too much, that's for sure. Good for you."

"Um…thank you. Well, I should get going, then. Thanks for the offer, though! It was nice meeting you gentlemen, and I had a lot of fun playing against you." She stands up, straightening out her clothing before nodding at the trio. "Have a lovely night."

"You too, lass. Anytime you want to come by and play again is fine by us—especially now that we know you won't take all our money! And maybe you could use some of what you got from us to buy yourself a brand new coat, eh?"

Allen laughs nervously as she walks away, subconsciously allowing her gloved hands to drift down towards her stomach. Against her will, she pulls the large fur coat tighter around herself, ensuring that it completely covers the noticeable bump. She had stolen the clothing she is now wearing at the first chance available to her—from the luggage of some faceless rich woman at a train station in Germany.

Kanda really is rubbing off on her, she thinks with a smile. The coat and gloves had been the only items of clothing she could lift in that short amount of time that are also able to hide both her arm and her growing stomach. The fur coat is just bulky enough to conceal her pregnancy. The young woman rightly figures that people in the casinos and bars wouldn't feel too good about even letting a pregnant woman in, not to mention gambling with her. Wearing the coat eases the level of awkwardness for both her and everyone else.

Besides, the nights have been getting increasingly colder everywhere she goes in Europe, and she doesn't relish the thought of falling ill while with child. Even right now, as she emerges outside, Allen shivers in the night air. From what she remembers of it, London is always like this at this time of year. Winter has already faded into spring, but it's still frigid at night. It has been so long since she's been here that she had almost forgotten, but the sudden drop in temperature is enough to remind her with a vengeance.

The white-haired girl had chosen her childhood home this time around for a few reasons; one is that she is familiar with it, and another is that she has missed it in these last few weeks. She had been to all sorts of places since running away, but she never stays anywhere for too long for obvious reasons. Aside from not wanting to be branded a traitor by both the Noah and the Order, she doesn't relish the thought of being thrown back into a cage or prison cell, no matter how hospitable it may be. Especially now that she is farther along in her pregnancy, the possibility of being kept in a drab cell for a few more months causes her to gag on her own saliva.

She doesn't even want to imagine the smell; things that used to not bother her have become particularly nauseating. It's all she can do to avoid throwing up whenever she passes by a street vendor peddling his wares, especially if said wares are anything that contains garlic.

Furthermore, months of being held captive and treated like an enemy by both friend and foe have instilled in Allen a newfound appreciation for her freedom; she has no intention of giving up what Cross had risked his life to give her…and what her tormentor now seems intent on violating in any way possible.

Though, now that she thinks about it, she hasn't seen or felt hide nor hair of him in quite a while, almost a week…

But then, speak of the devil, the white-haired girl stops in her tracks, and she lingers on the sidewalk as though unable to move. Paranoia seeps into her bones as a familiar prickling sensation crawls under her skin, and she strains to seek out where the overwhelming presence is coming from. She nearly curses out loud, but bites her tongue out of respect for those who are walking near her.

"Miss?" a man says as he passes by her rigid form. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

She smiles sweetly at him, shaking her head in a polite manner. "Oh, no. Nothing's wrong. Thank you, sir." And with that, she continues on her way.

As she resumes walking, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Gooseflesh rises on her skin in spite of the fact that both the coat and the bodies around her are warming her. It's happening again; there is the same feeling of being watched, the same feeling that has been plaguing her ever since she had escaped from the Order.

 _Where is it coming from? Is he behind me? In front of me? Am I walking towards him? Or is he somewhere in the crowd, following me?_  Allen is more willing to bet on the last possibility. Even as she continues to walk, his presence does not intensify or weaken. It's as though he is maintaining a constant distance from her, a feat that would be entirely possible if he were somewhere in the crowd behind her. Yet she knows that if she is to turn around and look, she will not find him. The streets of London are crowded at this time of night, and with the section of the city that she is in it would be no great shock to see several well-dressed men in top hats striding alongside her.

 _Why does he keep doing this? What does he want from me? He hasn't come up to me once; he only follows me, never approaching but always staying close by whenever he can find me_ …

_What is he trying to do?_

Allen doesn't know how to answer her own questions—a part of her is tempted to merely seek him out and ask him herself—but in a way, it is somewhat helpful. His presence informs the white-haired girl when it is time to move on. If she stays in one place for too long, Allen knows that she will eventually fall prey to the prying eyes that are pursuing her. If he is able to find her, then it is entirely possible that someone from the Order could, as well. As of now, she has been lucky that he is always the one to find her first.

 _Lucky._  It almost makes her laugh out loud, to think that Tyki Mikk practically stalking her is in any way a good thing.

But no matter what she thinks of him, the young woman has to admit to herself that in his own sick, twisted way, he is protecting her. At the very least, he has not done anything to hurt her.

Even so, the first time she had felt his presence, she had nearly had a heart attack. Though she had been within the confines of the inn she was staying at, she had bolted immediately. (She still feels slightly guilty for not paying the innkeeper, but at the time she had thought it was a matter of life and death.) She had done the same thing the second time, but only after properly exiting the establishment and then finding a quiet, abandoned space in which to use the Ark.

But the third time…was different, to say the least. The third time she felt Tyki's presence, she had instead been perplexed. She had been groggy and sleep-deprived, and had woken up in her room during the night only to feel the last vestiges of his aura fading away. Still, there had remained a strong sensation around her, leaving no doubt in her mind that the Noah had actually been in the room prior to her waking up.

It had been in this moment, as surreal as it may have seemed, when Allen realized that Tyki had not been trying to hurt her all this time, nor had he been trying to kidnap her. He had merely been following her, spying on her as she went about her daily life and tried to stay under the radar.

He just…watches her.

Of course, she isn't a fool. Allen knows full well that he is tailing her, even if he never allows himself to be seen or caught. He had made it perfectly clear the last time she had seen him face-to-face.

" _Wherever you go, I'll find you again, girl_."

So far, he is keeping true to his word. Even so, knowing that she is being followed, however much he tries to maintain his distance, makes her uncomfortable. The white-haired girl can never sleep peacefully when she knows he is around. It's a force of habit, she supposes; the remnants of her psychological distress will not allow her to sleep with him nearby, to let herself be so exposed and vulnerable to his advances.

But Allen knows she needs rest in order to function and stay alert. She cannot afford to be a fugitive  _and_  sleep-deprived.

 _I guess it's time for me to leave this city, then_ , she thinks sadly, her heart aching.  _I'm going to miss it…it was just starting to feel like home again, too…_

As soon as she gets back to the inn, Allen packs her meager belongings—which consist of a single suitcase of stolen clothing and some money—and checks out, ignoring the receptionist's befuddled gaze as she does so.

The young woman wanders down the street for a few minutes, mindful of the piercing gaze on her back and Tyki's still-present aura. She wanders until she happens upon a fairly empty part of town, and looks in all directions before stepping sideways into an alley. She doesn't want to get caught, after all, no matter how unlikely it is that a civilian will let slip that they saw a woman with white hair disappear into a portal.

Allen smothers her momentary panic as Tyki's presence becomes stronger, and instead focuses on opening a gate to the Fourteenth's room. It appears after a few seconds, and she steps into it without a backwards glance.

Now where is she going to go?

* * *

"What do you mean you have no idea where she is?"

The young Finder looks positively ill as his superior chastises him, his eyes riveted on the carpet rather than the other man's angry ones.

"I'm sorry, Inspector," he finally chokes out. "I wish I had better news for you, but she's almost impossible to track. We haven't found a trace of her, nor a single clue as to where she might be. It's like she's just vanished."

Leverrier glares at the surface of his desk, and folds his hands one on top of the other. "I see. And have you checked in with all of the sources I mentioned?"

The young man nods. "Yes. The other Finders in my unit and I all made contact with the Order's supporters from Europe and Asia, including all the ones where Allen Walker has stayed at some point. We have yet to check North or South America, as well as—"

"Then do it," Leverrier snaps, cutting the Finder off rudely. "If she's decided to seek asylum somewhere people don't know her, she could have been staying there for weeks now. It's been almost six since she abandoned the Order. I'm beginning to think that you're all merely incompetent."

The Finder pales, his lips pulling back into a pained grimace. "Of course, Inspector. We'll get on that right away."

"Good." The young man practically runs out of his office, and Leverrier takes this moment of solitary reprieve to think.

Allen Walker has been gone for almost a month and a half, and in that time there has been no word of her being spotted anywhere. It is, as the Finder had said, much like she has just vanished off the face of the Earth.

And, the older man thinks, she very well could have. Of course, none of the Finders he is employing in this task are aware of this possibility, that if she has finally decided to betray the Order she could be with the Noah Clan already. There is only one other person besides Allen herself who knows of her situation, and who may be able to shed some light on her whereabouts. Of course, he has so far stayed stubbornly silent on the subject.

Leverrier gets up with a sigh, straightening his coat before leaving the office. He goes down several levels, to the same place where he had been keeping the white-haired girl prior to her escape. He nods at the guards as he passes by, and they return the gesture even as they pointedly avoid eye contact with their superior. He is not surprised by their silent behavior; almost everyone at Headquarters has taken to acting this way as of late, with the exception of two people. Kanda Yuu is one of them, for he always glares intensely at him whenever he passes by in the hallway; however, he never says anything to his face.

As for the other person…well, Leverrier supposes this is not a coincidence. Cross Marian has never had a problem looking anyone in the eye, no matter if said person is ranked higher than he is or in a position of authority. On the contrary, the General seems to have a habit of looking down on those who try to rein him in. It's all a part of his characteristic arrogance, Leverrier thinks. The man believes he holds the world—and everyone in it—in the palm of his hand. He, being an Inspector, is no exception.

He says nothing as he walks up to the General's cell, but merely waits to be acknowledged by the other man. He knows from personal experience that Cross will not respond if spoken to first. Whether it's a matter of pride or spite, he doesn't care; though it irks him to no end, Leverrier is willing to sacrifice some of his own pride in order to get the man to speak—and he does, after only about a minute of silence.

"Why Leverrier, I didn't realize you had become so shy. Do I intimidate you?"

He can hear the smirk in Cross's voice, and Leverrier scowls. "You know full well that you refuse to talk if I ask you questions first. I don't and never have appreciated your games, Cross."

"Very true on both ends. I wonder why that is? Well, in any case, ask away—though I can't promise that I'll answer you. It's quite boring around here without any cigarettes or wine, and I'm a bit irritable right now."

"I'll have one of the guards bring you some if you answer my questions."

"…It's a deal. Go on."

The Inspector sighs, flexing his hands in frustration. "I don't know why you helped Allen Walker escape, but I want to know. You and I are both on the same page regarding her situation. I assume you already know that she is the Fourteenth's host, correct?"

"…Perhaps."

"So, Cross, whose side are you on? I highly doubt that you've turned traitor, though I must say I am suspicious that you haven't tried to escape. It seems to me that you are all but admitting your guilt."

"Quite the contrary, Inspector. Me staying here is a sign of good faith. That's why I haven't tried to leave. Allen would have done the same if I hadn't taken action."

Leverrier grits his teeth. "Then why on Earth did you free her? She could have been an asset to the Order if we were to manipulate her awakening. Now she could be being manipulated by the Earl himself as we speak."

Cross guffaws, the sound echoing loudly within the large metal box. "You underestimate her, Leverrier. At least give my apprentice some credit. She is not so gullible, and neither is the Fourteenth. There is a reason why he chose her, though I myself don't know why that is—though I have a fairly good guess…"

"You seem so certain. But what of the child? What of the father?"

"It's clear that it wasn't consensual, Inspector," the General hisses. "I'm insulted that you would even go so far as to suggest that—as though she is some sort of whore. Not that there is anything wrong with being a whore, though. I find that it makes many people happy."

"Even so, that child is still an anomaly. It should not even exist. Even if Walker and the Fourteenth are on our side, there is no telling what sort of chaos that child could bring into the world. We have to be prepared for any eventuality. I myself have no idea what to expect."

"Neither do I," Cross admits, "but whatever it does bring will be far more preferable to what the higher-ups will do if they get their hands on him or her."

Leverrier frowns. "You don't know that for certain, Cross. That child could very well be a monster, just like its father. It is dangerous because it has no precedent. We have never seen what results from having a child borne of two Noah. It could be disastrous. We cannot allow it to be born unless it is in our custody, and we surely cannot release it into the world without knowing what it could do, or what abilities it might have."

The General stays silent for a few moments, the tense quiet punctuated by an air of awkwardness. It pervades the both of them, creating a silence that is all but shattered by Cross's lack of tact.

"Well," he says, "I guess we'll find out soon, won't we?"

* * *

He watches her. Everywhere she goes, he watches her—or he tries to, at least. She is very good at covering her tracks and using the Ark inconspicuously, but there is one thing that she cannot account for: his uncanny ability to find her. In some ways he feels guilty for doing so, because he knows that she can sense him nearby and does everything in her power to avoid the man she hates.

But on the other hand, he is certain that if he is not near her she will be spotted by people in the Order, or even by another member of his family. She will almost certainly be dragged away and imprisoned a second time, and Tyki doubts his continuous luck in regards to freeing her once again. Call it paranoia, but he only wants to make sure that no one else harms her. He has already done so; he has hurt Allen Walker enough for a lifetime.

" _You think you've earned the right to be my savior?"_

No. He doesn't think so, not for a minute, but that will not stop him from trying to protect her in his own way—no matter how much guilt plagues him by doing so.

Another issue is his family, particularly the Earl and Wisely. Sheril is still unceasingly annoying, but he is not as intrusive as the Noah of Wisdom or as intimidating as the Earl. Tyki still has to check in with the Clan of Noah and the Earl every few days so that he doesn't arouse suspicion. As far as they know, he is either hunting for exorcists and Innocence to destroy or hanging out with his human friends. Needless to say, they do not necessarily approve of his hobbies, but they don't voice their concerns much. He figures that they have more things to be concerned about apart from him, though he tries to retain a cool head whenever he is in their company no matter how stressed he really is. An iota of suspicion is enough to ruin the trust he has cultivated thus far.

Tyki much prefers what he is doing now: watching over the white-haired girl as she goes about her daily life as a fugitive. Although he finds more gratification in doing so than listening to the Earl—a fact that would have shocked him only months ago—there is still a part of him that writhes in agony when he sees her. It had always been there; it stems from knowing that no matter how much he wants to go up to her, to touch her, he cannot, and also from the fact that his most base and violent tendencies are being smothered. And it has grown even more painful, especially in light of their most recent conversation.

" _After all the pain you put me through, every time you…I should hate you more than anything, but I can't stop wanting to forget. I want to find peace. I want…I want to forgive you_ …"

He wants that, too. More than anything, Tyki wants to be forgiven for everything that he's done. But the mere thought that Allen wants it as well, and that she is torturing herself because of it, is enough to make the Noah want to harm himself beyond measure. It's almost as though she blames herself for what has happened, which is the opposite of what she should be doing. Just as she had said, she should hate him; doing so would be justified. Why is she tormenting  _herself_? It makes no sense. And what is even worse is how she acts, how she feels because of his choices.

" _But now, with the pregnancy, and the nightmares…I can't sleep anymore, I can't eat without wanting to throw it all up. Because of what you did, because of how disgusting you made me feel_."

Of all the things she has said to him, of all the insults and intentional provocations she has thrown at him, these words are the most poignant. They cause his heart to shrivel in his chest, to shrink away from her and deny everything she has told him. He had been unable to hide his emotions back then, and he is certain that Allen had been able to see on his face the anguish that her words had brought upon him. It's good that she didn't apologize or take them back. If she had, his heart would have only cracked further—not that it would have made much of a difference, anyway. Now that he knows the extent—and probably not all of it, he might add—of the pain he had caused her, all he wants is to do is something, _anything_ , that will somehow erase it.

She is far from disgusting; Tyki finds her to be no less than beautiful. Even with her tired, drawn expression, and the dark rings around her eyes that allude to many sleepless nights, Allen Walker is still the same woman he had been drawn to, the same woman he had wanted to be his.

But it's far too late to tell her this and have it mean anything, to have it fix the yawning cleft between them. Yet aside from vanishing from her life and leaving her alone, what can he do? He is far too stubborn and selfish to give up the white-haired girl, even if he knows that this is the right thing to do. He wants to be near her, even if means that the Earl will punish him for doing so.

And, in a way, being so close to her is a punishment in itself. Every time he sees her, Tyki is filled both with carnal hatred and desire, as well as emotional anguish stemming from his guilt and internal conflict. If he is to ever get rid of these emotions, if he is ever to atone for what he's done, he has to make it up to her somehow.

But as of late, he cannot figure out how to do that.

So, for now, he settles for watching her. Following the young woman, no matter how much she may despise him, offers a sort of protection for her. If either an exorcist or a Noah targets her, he will defend her if need be.

At least, this is what he tells himself. So far she has not needed saving from anyone, and Tyki is beginning to believe that this claim of protection is only a farce, a lie he tells himself to provide a convenient excuse for being close to her. After all, all he does when he actually manages to find her…is watch.

* * *

_London is a lovely place to be in spring_ , he thinks with a passive mien. The weather is fair, if a bit chilly at night, but it's nothing he cannot handle. The people are charming as a whole, and the city itself is enchanting.

It had been made even more so by the fact he had found the white-haired girl here, but she is gone now. He notices that she is starting to catch on to his presence more quickly…perhaps his Noah is gaining strength just as hers is. He doesn't care to think about the possible implications of this event, so he disregards it for now.

Maybe he is just being careless. He would not be surprised if this were the case. As of late, Tyki has noticed himself becoming more restless, more unhinged, and less grounded even in the company of his family. He feels a constant presence clawing at him; this is nothing new, but there is more force behind it. No matter how much he wants to deny it, Joyd  _is_  growing stronger, but the Noah is still far from overtaking him.

Or maybe this is just what he would like to believe. It doesn't make it true.

Allen has already vanished into the alley, and he turns the corner just in time to see the young woman disappear into the Ark. He sighs heavily, leans against the wall, and lights a cigarette.

He nearly drops it when a familiar voice reaches his ears.

"What are you doing, Tyki?"

His eyes widen as Road steps in front of him, for once not holding Lero. She stares curiously up at him, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Road?" He gapes at her. "What are you doing here?"  _Did she see me watching her?_

"The others and I are worried about you…but especially me. I wanted to check up on you."

He sighs. "My business is none of your concern, Road."

"You don't have to lie to me, Tyki. Actually, you shouldn't. I'm probably the only one in our family who's on your side right now. Well, Lulu Bell has always been pretty neutral, so she doesn't count. If Lord Millennium and the others find out about what you're doing, how do you think they'd react?"

He squints his eyes in paranoia just at the thought of it, and casts a sideways glance at the young girl. "You aren't going to say anything about it, are you?"

Road smiles cutely at him, shifting from one foot to the other. "No. Why would I do that? I like you. We are family, aren't we?"

"I thought you always said we should be honest with family."

The spiky-haired girl sends him a cheeky glare, but quickly adopts a serious posture. "Okay. If that's true, then answer my question: You've fallen in love with Allen-chan, haven't you?"

Tyki nearly chokes on the smoke in his lungs, and curses himself as he all but gives away the answer. "What are you talking about?" he mutters, trying to slow the rapid beat of his heart.

"Don't try to deny it, Tyki! I've been keeping an eye on you since you brought her back to the Ark. It's so obvious I'm amazed the Earl hasn't caught on yet. He's always been in denial about treachery within the family, though, so I guess I shouldn't be."

The male Noah clenches his teeth in frustration. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Road."

She shoots him a skeptical look and rolls her eyes. "I don't, do I? I've been around for far longer than you. I may look young, but I've seen more than you have. You probably still don't remember all of it, but what's happening to you now is the same exact thing that happened all those years ago to the man who came before you. It's so similar that I can hardly just sit back and watch without wanting to tell you…I feel bad doing that. I don't want you to lose yourself to him, Tyki."

Though he knows exactly what she is talking about, Tyki cannot stop himself from asking, "To who?" He knows, but the thought of explicitly addressing the issue repulses him.

Unfortunately for him, Road doesn't have a problem with it.

"Joyd," she says, the name causing his spine to stiffen. A shiver runs through him as the syllable passes her lips. "He's close to the surface, isn't he?"

His silence is answer enough.

"I knew it. You haven't seemed like yourself for a while now. You seem much more withdrawn, more introverted, and way more tense than you usually are. You've always been one of the most relaxed Noah—apart from Wisely—but now you can hardly even sit still while with the rest of us. You're really trying to smother him, aren't you? You're trying so hard that it's already taking a toll…" Road almost looks distraught, so much so that it even takes Tyki by surprise. "I'm worried about you, Tyki. I've seen what happens when a Noah swallows the identity of a human host, even for a moment. It's not pretty…and once it happens, even after you regain some degree of control, you're never the same afterwards. I don't want you to lose yourself."

He is quiet for a long time, but Road waits patiently for him to respond.

"I won't."

This is all he says, and it is abundantly clear that she does not believe him.

* * *

He finds her again, this time after a prolonged and particularly difficult hunt of two weeks. She has outdone herself this time; he had been made to travel all around the globe in search of her, and every time he had caught a glimpse or a whiff she had disappeared again.

But this time, she cannot run away from him so quickly—because this time he catches her while she is asleep.

Tyki approaches the inn cautiously. He normally never gets so close to her, mostly for fear of scaring her off or coming across as menacing. But it is on nights like these, when the air is still and the white-haired girl is dead to the world, that he breaks this unspoken rule.

He phases through the walls quickly, passing through each room without a single glance at the occupants. He knows where she is, and he can certainly tell without looking that they are nothing special.

His heart skips a beat when he sees her up close for the first time in over a month, curled up beneath the covers and clinging to the warmth provided by the bed. He approaches her warily, leaning over her and holding his breath so as not to make a noise. She sleeps peacefully at first, with her white hair splayed out on the pillow like several tendrils of silken vine. Her mouth is open slightly, and her eyes dart back and forth beneath the lids as she dreams.

And, if he focuses hard enough, Tyki is able to make out the curve of a large bump beneath the blankets, where her abdomen is.

 _She must be around six months pregnant by now,_ he muses, a brief surge of panic almost overtaking him. How had so much time passed by without him realizing it? What is he going to do when she goes into labor? Provided that he is still following her, he will have to do _something._..

He relaxes a moment later as he refocuses on her face, the expression still quiet and tranquil in her slumber. But this does not last long.

Allen's expression contorts into one of frustration, and if he is not mistaken, acute fear. Her eyes scrunch closed tightly, forming lines of stress in the skin around them. Her eyebrows furrow in obvious anxiety, her lips quake, and her hands fist up wads of cotton sheets, her knuckles paling as she does so.

 _What is happening to her?_  He places her reaction as the result of a bad dream, and his heart aches when he recalls what she had said to him only two months ago regarding her nightmares—the nightmares she had been having about him.

This isn't the first time that Tyki has allowed himself to wallow in guilt, and it won't be the last provided that the situation doesn't change—that is, as long as Allen continues to suffer because of him.

Before he realizes what he's doing, the Noah takes a seat right beside her, allowing his weight to sink into the mattress rather than go unnoticed by it. The white-haired girl draws closer to him, and Tyki tenses as her hand drifts closer to his. He wants to resist, and tells himself that he should leave before she wakes up and tries to attack him, but instead, he does something foolish even by his standards.

He takes her hand into his, entwining their fingers. Her hand stiffens for a moment, but she soon relaxes into the warmth his touch provides. Her apparent acceptance of him, even in her unconscious state, encourages him. Feeling even bolder, he brings his other hand up to cup her face, brushing the hair out of her eyes as he always does. Sweat has beaded on her brow, and her chest rises and falls rapidly as her breathing picks up speed. Panic again threatens to overtake him (what if she wakes up and screams, or tries to get away from him and ends up hurting either him or herself?), and Tyki barely manages to calm himself down for the sake of mutual safety. He cannot afford to lose control here, where it is so easy for things to go so horribly wrong.

Rather than resorting to blind panic, the Noah of Pleasure starts to run his fingers through her hair—which, he notices, is even longer than it had been two months ago. He threads the white locks through his fingers, alternating between combing it and massaging her scalp. It seems to work, for Allen's traumatized expression relaxes as he continues his ministrations. He feels slightly proud of himself for this, for at least being able to offer her some form of comfort even if, under ideal circumstances, she will never find out about it. At least now he will know that he is capable of causing her to feel emotions other than pain or shame.

Dimly, he realizes that this will do her no good, not when she still fears his very presence; the hatred he has for himself grows.

Tyki freezes when her body shifts beneath the blankets, and a muffled moan slips out of her mouth. Before he can find the energy to bolt away, he sees something that he had never dreamed he would.

Suddenly, the young woman's skin, the skin that is as pale and delicate as fine china, darkens to a shade that is very familiar to the Noah.

It matches his own.

Tyki stares, stock-still and frozen with shock, as the white-haired girl's skin fades into the telltale gray hue of a Noah's.

And before he can even think to flee, her eyes open—and his stomach churns as golden orbs blink up at him, their usual silver gleam smothered by the flashy pigment.

As it turns out, she regains control over her cognitive faculties before he does.

"Joyd?"


	30. A Host of Problems

She is dreaming again.

But this time, it's different. Different in a good way; it's not like the times she has woken up screaming from suffocating nightmares. Normally she is being smothered; the darkness chokes her into submission, as does the fear of the unknown and the familiar. Both are equally terrifying.

This time around, there is none of that. Though she dreams in darkness, it's not frightening. The dreams with images, with memories untouched by the filter time strains them through, do not plague her. Instead, there is nothing.

It's merciful, she thinks with a faint smile, how she gets to finally have a moment of peace. Here, in this place that hasn't been tainted by her own mind, there isn't anything—there are no traumatic memories, no demons lurking in the darkness, and no light. If there were light, she would be able to see herself, and she wants nothing to do with her own reflection. It frightens her, confuses her, and reminds her of everything that has happened. It reminds her of what she is, and she is glad that for the moment, it seems she merely doesn't exist.

There is nothing at all—and it suits Allen just fine. Being who she is grows tiring after a long while, anyway…she had promised not to lose herself, and she won't, but for right now it's easy for her to pretend.

So she hovers there, just beyond the pull of light. She floats in the vast emptiness of her own subconscious, ironically unconcerned about being lost in a sea of darkness while at the same time, she finds it difficult just to look a certain man in the eye…

Who is he, again? That man she is so obsessed with? She knows that he's important, but she cannot remember why for the life of her…

Is he the reason she's like this? Or is he the one trying to save her? It's strange; she recalls him along with so much pain, but at the same time, there is a hint of pity, of sympathy…

Is he…?

Allen soon gives up; the strain of remembering puts too much pressure on her mind. She would rather not lose a good thing; the real world can wait a bit longer…

She's fine with this.

But she doesn't know why.

Allen is incapable of explaining, even to her own self, why being secluded in nothingness is comforting, but it is. She had always thought—or at least, she  _thinks_  she's always thought—that nothingness is the worst thing one can imagine. Yet right now it's better than dreaming, better than  _living_ …

She thinks briefly that being like this forever would be okay. If she is only to give in for a moment, she can slip away unnoticed, never having to face the troubles that surely plague her in the waking world.

This is what she tells herself.

So, for this reason, the white-haired girl is disappointed when she is tugged back towards some degree of awareness. The light around her grows brighter, and she squints against the assault. Though the light is still dim, and the voices that are around her are dimmer, the young woman can almost make out what they are saying. There are two of them, and it takes Allen a moment to interpret their incoherent mumbles as words…

" _Ezra?_ " A man's voice speaks up, and a name hovers at the periphery of her subconscious, but she cannot quite place it…she knows this man, but his name evades her. Just as well, she recognizes the name he speaks.

" _Is that you?_ " he goes on to ask, his voice increasing in intensity. " _Are you finally here, Ezra? Have you returned?_ "

For one reason or another, his voice distresses her. It might be his tone, his overtly desperate manner, or the implied meaning behind his words that makes her anxious, but Allen is far from being able to distinguish which answer is the correct one. As of right now she is struggling to remember the man's name, or the origin of the name of the person he is stressing over. She tries to repeat her own name in her head, suddenly wary of it being lost amidst the other names rattling around in her brain.

_My name is Allen. Allen…Allen…Allen…_

_My name is…_

_Ezra?_

Then, to her absolute shock, a woman answers him.

" _Not yet, Neah…"_

_Neah! That's it! That's his name! He's my…my Noah. And Mana's brother…what else is he?_

Suddenly, it hits her. She is flooded with past memories; ones of the time she spent with the Fourteenth fly through her mind, along with the stories told to her by both him and Master Cross. Out of nowhere, apparently, she knows everything—at the drop of a name, it all comes rushing back to her.

_Ezra…is this Ezra he's talking to? My grandmother? But how?_

Allen silences her thoughts as the Fifteenth continues to talk.

" _I can't reach her yet_ ," she says, her voice a soft whisper. " _Not quite…I don't want to overwhelm her. I can talk to you only briefly. I can feel the both of you, her more so than you...there's so much pain. Why is there so much pain?_ "

The woman's voice sounds tragic, as though she is in physical agony from whatever it is she feels.

" _Ezra?_ "

" _Forget about me. What's happened to—wait a moment…he's here_."

" _Yes, he is. Or at least his vessel is. I should get rid of him."_

" _No…don't. It's strange. I sense no evil intent coming from him. Not like last time. After what happened between us, I would have thought that he would try his hardest to destroy both of us_."

"…"

"… _Silas is dead, isn't he?"_  Ezra asks out of nowhere, her tone wistful.

"… _Yes. I'm sorry."_

" _Do not apologize, or I'll flog you a million times over. It's not your fault…I already knew as much, anyway. I saw him die, but I almost couldn't believe it. I hoped I had just been hallucinating. It's all a blur to me now…"_

" _Your memory has to adjust itself to a new body. It will be easier for you than me, given the circumstances of our arrangement. Just give it time."_

Allen can feel Ezra's frustration grow, no doubt amplified by the white-haired girl's own internal suffering. She can feel the Fifteenth's emotions as vividly as her own. It only makes sense, given how accustomed Ezra must be to sharing her thoughts and feelings with others.

" _If it relieves any of your pain,_ " Neah begins, " _your granddaughter is safe._ "

Though the negative emotions do not disappear, Allen can feel a smile overtake her expression. Before she realizes what is happening, her own lips form two words.

"… _Thank you_ …"

* * *

The young woman draws in a deep breath, fidgeting restlessly as consciousness claims her. It feels like the first time she has opened her eyes, at least in a long while, and in the beginning her surroundings are distorted and blurry. Soon enough, however, the fog clears, and she focuses on the man hovering over her. She furrows her brows in confusion—and then, only a moment later, realization.

She knows this man. He may look much different—in fact, he is far more handsome now—but there is no doubt in her mind that it is him.

The man she had wronged, and who had tried to take everything away from her in return.

"Joyd?" When he doesn't do anything but stare at her with wide golden eyes, she smiles sheepishly. "It is you, isn't it? Tell me, won't—"

Blinding pain splits down the middle of her forehead, reverberating around in her skull. It feels as though her head is cracking in two, and she squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the agony. The young woman cradles her aching head in both hands, running her fingers over her eyelids in an attempt to soothe the phantom pain.

She doesn't notice when his hand tightens on hers as she pulls it away, but he doesn't do anything else to stop her.

Allen gasps as clarity returns to her, along with everything else: all her previous thoughts and memories surge back to the forefront of her mind, and suddenly everything around her changes drastically. Though nothing about the actual scene has changed, it has acquired a far different connotation to her. It feels as though a cloudy, bleak film has been placed over her eyes, and as they land upon the man beside her, she stiffens.

The young woman sits up, drawing herself back to what she deems is a safe distance— _safe_  being only relative to lying prone beneath him, so this does not say anything positive about her determination. If she were wise, she would have bolted immediately; even the most forgiving person would be foolish not to stay as far away from Tyki Mikk as possible.

But, as she has already established multiple times, she is the biggest fool of them all. Her repeated run-ins with the Noah of Pleasure are a testament to that, as is her increasing confusion over what the man's true goals are.

So as it is, Allen only presses her body against the headboard— _this position feels strangely familiar_ , she thinks with a frown—and eyes the Noah with wary orbs.

"Tyki…" she says, his name little more than a whisper. It feels as though it's been forever since it has left her lips, and it echoes in the silent room.  _Why is he here? Why isn't he leaving? He normally tries not to let me see him…I thought he didn't want me to. What does he want, then? Is he waiting for me to…to do something? He knows I can't attack him yet, not like this…_ Unease ripples through her as all the gruesome possibilities run through her mind, but she tries to brush them off. Tyki hasn't tried to hurt her once in the last two months; why would he start now? His aura isn't menacing, anyway; it's rather calm, if not a bit unsettled—almost as though  _he_  is afraid of  _her_.

_"I sense no evil intent coming from him."_

But that makes no sense, she reasons. She has an excuse to be wary of him. Still…the fact that he is looking at her with such wide, cautious eyes makes her heartbeat slow.

Allen sighs, letting her eyes slip downwards to rest on the bedcovers. She twines her fingers around each other, nervously playing with them as she gathers the courage to speak. "What are you doing here?" She raises her eyes to see his answer, hardening her silver orbs.

Tyki stares back at her just as intensely; if she had to guess, she would say that he looks as though he's just seen a ghost. "What happened just now?" he asks, paranoia obvious in his demeanor. "Why did you…? Do you remember?"

"Do I remember what?" she snaps, taking on a defensive posture. If he is going to ask her about her Noah, then she has no patience for him.

Tyki glares at the bed, his jaw set and angry. A cold sweat breaks out on the back of her neck when he meets her eyes again.

"You called me Joyd," he says, the name sounding like poison on his tongue. "Why? Was it the Fourteenth?"

The white-haired girl's first instinct is to say no, but she knows there is no chance of him buying that. She knows full well what had happened…or at least part of it. The dreams she had been having prior are a blur, but she recalls perfectly what had happened when she had awoken. She had called him Joyd…but why? He had seemed almost like a stranger to her, despite the fact that she knows his face quite well at this point—far better than the other Noah, at any rate. Perhaps it could have been mere confusion, but something tells her that this isn't right…

No. Allen pales at the thought that Neah had managed to take over her body, even if only for a moment. But then…she remembers the experience, and it had not seemed as though Neah had been the one talking. There had been no trace of his usual demeanor, no remnants of his hatred for the Third child.

There had been almost nothing familiar to her, except for the aura that she recalls distantly from her dream…

The young woman wonders if he had been too overwhelmed to attack Joyd, or if being in a new body had muddled his senses and memories temporarily. If so, then his odd behavior would make some sense.

"I…" she says, her eyes watering with—no matter how much she doesn't want to admit it—fear. "…I don't know. I think so…he's been growing stronger lately…"

For the life of her, she cannot figure out  _why_  she is telling him this. Rather than fleeing or fighting, she is sitting here in bed, conversing with Tyki as though he isn't one of her enemies. She blames him and his oddly patient behavior; he's acting stranger than her as he sits here, asking her questions as though he is concerned for her wellbeing.

Then again, Allen recalls that watching out for her wellbeing is all he seems to be doing lately—so perhaps  _she_  is really the strange one in this situation. Even so…if she were to react emotionally, as anyone else would do in this situation, she would either run or try to fight him off. However, with the latest series of events, coupled with Tyki's confounding behavior, she only finds it in her to ask one question.

"Tyki…why are you here?"

He turns away from her, his golden eyes resting apathetically on the wall. "I know you're not an idiot, girl. I've been following you for some time, and I can see that you've noticed. You were having a nightmare. I let myself in."

Allen frowns, noticing the almost imperceptible shake of his hands. "Liar," she accuses. "I know you've been following me—and I know that no matter what you say, you were probably already in here before I started having a nightmare. But before…you would never show yourself to me. You would always just follow and never let me see you. All you do is watch. And you never answered my question— _why_?"

When he says nothing, the young woman only becomes more agitated; her frustration gives way to anger, and no matter how unwise she knows it is she cannot stop herself from giving in to it.

"Is it…is it some sort of  _entertainment_  for you? Are you just a voyeur now? You owe me an explanation—or at least a  _yes_ , if that's what it is. How disgusting do you have to be to enjoy that? How  _foul_  are—"

Allen chokes on her words. Her voice becomes a stressed wheeze as a hand clamps down on her throat, and she finds it suddenly impossible to speak. She looks down at the offending appendage, noting that the hand is submerged inside her throat like before.

The white-haired girl refocuses on Tyki's face, taking note of his piercing orbs and the sheer fury etched into his features. Her heart grows cold, and she realizes with vivid clarity that this isn't the same man whom she had previously been talking to. No—this man is far more dangerous.

" _Stop_ ," he tells her, his voice low and deadly. His eyes are practically glowing now, alight with hatred so intense that it gives her pause and causes her to forget to try to breathe.

 _What's wrong with him? Is that…Joyd? He must be losing control of his Noah_ …

If this is the case, then the least she could do is try to stop it. Though her own hands are shaking with fright, she manages to croak out a few words.

" _Tyki_ …" She coughs, her mind inching towards panic as she recalls the child that is still growing inside her. " _Tyki…the baby…stop_ …" She struggles to keep her eyes open, forcing herself to stare into his hateful mien as he continues to choke her.

However, as soon as he registers her last three words, the Noah does as she says. He releases her suddenly, his hand jerking away from her as though her skin has burned him. Allen nearly hacks up a lung when he lets go, slumping against the headboard to regain her bearings. She places a hand over her heart as she catches her breath, and the other rests soothingly on her stomach. Momentary terror runs through her when she considers the health of the child, but a few seconds of reassuring thoughts and a heavy kick from her womb calms her somewhat.

"…Thank you," she whispers.

When she looks back up, Tyki is speechless; he stares at the offending hand in abject horror, but for the moment he seems to have calmed down.

"I'm…I'm sorry," he says, refusing to even meet her eyes. "I…lost control for a moment. It seems that my Noah has a shorter temper than I imagined—but I'm not trying to blame anyone. I just…" He sighs, forming a fist with the very hand that had tried to end her life. "I'm sorry."

Allen stares at him with wide orbs. "Well…I guess we both have strong Noah," she says. "I felt him take you over...and I saw him in your eyes. He hates me a lot, doesn't he?"

"…Not you. It's…complicated."

Against her will, she smiles ironically. "I know."

The two sit in quietude for a few minutes, both trying to regain their composure. The white-haired girl breaks the silence.

"Tyki…what do you want from me? Your behavior is…confusing, if I'm being generous. It's like you hate me—or the Third does—but at the same time, you don't. Why else would you have been watching me for two months without hurting me? Why? Is it because of the baby? What  _do_  you want?" When asking the Noah of Pleasure such philosophical questions, she has come to expect his silence. She expects his newfound stoicism, the emotionless mask that is always tinged with both hatred and boundless sorrow. Either that or a casual smirk—but in recent months those gestures have all but vanished. His carefree side has seemed to evaporate, leaving him as nothing but an intentionally apathetic creature—one who does his best to hide his true thoughts, no matter how badly he wants to communicate them.

Given this new standard of behavior, Allen is rightfully flabbergasted when Tyki, rather than respond to her in words, turns his gaze to her engorged abdomen. He raises a hand—the other one, she notices—and the young woman flinches.

He pauses for a moment when he sees her flinch, but when she doesn't back away from him, he resumes his action. Allen jumps slightly, a jolt running across her skin when Tyki touches her stomach. She is tempted to pull away from him out of an instinctual need to protect it, but holds herself firm for the sake of both curiosity and fear.

As it is, curiosity wins out.

_What is he doing?_

At first, Tyki's palm rests limply on her abdomen, but after a few tense seconds he shifts against her, as though he is trying to feel out the presence of the life forming inside her. She understands his sentiment, to a degree; in the beginning, she had been unable to stop touching her stomach as well. She had been amazed at the mere thought that there was another human being forming inside of her, and on several occasions had even doubted the possibility. Surely the Nurse had made a mistake…but no, Allen had  _felt_  the fetus inside her before she had started showing, so she knows it is no mistake.

 _It feels…weird_ , the white-haired girl ponders. No one else besides her has ever felt her stomach before, at least not in this way. No one has asked to feel her belly with a large grin on his or her face, overjoyed at the thought of her bringing a child into the world. She had not expected anyone to; it is a Noah's child, after all. The majority of people at the Order would be disgusted if they knew about it.

So it feels peculiar when someone finally does, especially considering that said person is both the biological father and a predator—in all senses of the word. It's both frightening and curious, because Allen is well aware that if he so chooses, Tyki can end the child's existence in an instant, and in any manner of gruesome ways. He can reach inside of her and get rid of it with barely a thought. It would be so easy for him.

But he doesn't, and without a logical explanation as to how, the young woman knows that he will do no such thing. Besides, if he really wants to get rid of the baby, he would have done it already. So instead of pulling away, Allen watches him with rapt attention, befuddled by his obvious wonderment as he stares at her stomach.

The white-haired girl gasps as she feels an especially violent kick, and her hands reach down to hover over her stomach. For a moment she forgets that Tyki is touching her, and her hands clamp down over his own. Her eyes grow wide, and she quickly pulls away. If she touches him, what will he do? With his obvious lack of control over his Noah, she doesn't want to take any risks by surprising him.

He says nothing about her jittery behavior, but instead asks a question she had been dreading having to answer.

"Why did you decide to keep it?" he whispers. "I know you could have rid yourself of it, if you wanted. You could have done it secretly. Why bother carrying the child of a man you hate?"

Allen sighs, trying to control her frustration. "Haven't you been listening? I never said I hated you. I said I wanted to forgive you, even though I  _should_  hate you. I don't think I've ever felt true hate for anyone except the Earl, and even I know that it's wrong. What I felt for you…it was mostly fear and anger, and frustration. But hatred…it's not an emotion I prefer to subject myself to. After a while, hating you seemed more and more pointless…confusion is much more accurate."

Tyki stares at her in disbelief, his jaw practically hanging off. "How can you…?"

She shrugs. "I can't describe it myself. You put me through far more pain than I ever thought I would experience. But the longer I stay with you, and the more I learn about your Noah from Neah's memories…the more confused I become. I'm still not sure who you are. Are you really the person who hurt me, Tyki?"

The longer he stays silent, the more bewildered she becomes.

"Listen…you should go. If what you said is true, then you shouldn't be around either the baby or me. Something bad could happen."

His hand refuses to budge. "What are you saying?" he asks. "That if it weren't for the child, you wouldn't kick me out?"

Allen grits her teeth.  _Leave it to him to read into what I'm saying._  "So I'm the one confusing  _you_  now, am I? How ironic."

The subtle sarcasm in her tone surprises both of them, and he stares at her with wide orbs. The corners of his lips draw up into a small smirk. "Are you joking with me? Or are you just being rude again?"

"I don't see the difference. Maybe it's both. Then again, I've never had an opportunity to have a normal conversation with you, so I wouldn't know how it feels."

"…Yes. I suppose that's my fault."

"Yes, it is."

Tyki's smirk becomes a sad one, but he doesn't tear his gaze away from her. "Would you like me to apologize again?"

Allen sighs, and her eyes slide closed. "I'm sick of apologies," she mutters, running a hand through her tangled hair. "I'm sick of everything that's been happening to me lately. So no, don't apologize. I might go insane if I hear you say  _I'm sorry_  one more time."

She can't see him, but she can feel him, and she definitely feels it when his hand leaves her stomach. She can feel it when his hands return to her, only this time one of them settles on her shoulder. For the millionth time, Allen wonders what he wants from her.

Her question is answered when she feels his breath hit her face.

The white-haired girl opens her eyes right before he kisses her, and stares at his closed eyelids as their lips meet. As it has been many times before, she is at a loss for words.

Tyki does not deepen the kiss, nor does he attempt to entice her to respond. He draws away quickly; he doesn't say anything further, and he doesn't smile—he merely stares at her, and his eyes search her face for what she thinks is a sign of rejection; he expects her to react negatively, she realizes. He isn't under any illusion that she will accept him.

Just  _what_  is going on in this man's head?

"…Tyki?"

At the sound of her voice, he threads a finger through her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. When she doesn't push him away, he leans back towards her and places another chaste kiss on her lips. Her right hand reaches up and wraps around his bicep, but still Allen does not push him away. She supposes that it could be fear that stops her, but really, her current fear is not of being violated again. Her fear right now stems from the fact that, in spite of everything that has happened, she isn't afraid. She should be, and she has been for a long time now.

But in the midst of her confusion and the bewildering events of the past two months, Allen finds that she is now more ashamed than afraid; she is ashamed for the reason that, contrary to how she should be when in the company of a monster, she is inexplicably relaxed.

Tyki must sense this too; her muscles have lost much of their usual tension, and her eyelids are drooping heavily when he pulls back to look at her. She doesn't know why, but her exhaustion seems to be overtaking her. She doesn't know what else she had expected by being woken up in the middle of the night; it's bound to take a toll on her. Her lids feel as though they have doubled in weight.

It's unsafe to place any degree of trust in someone who has caused others so much grief, but at the moment Allen cannot be bothered to care.

"Tyki…" she starts, her voice trailing off. "…you should leave. I want to sleep."

He stares curiously at her as she rubs her eyes and releases a large yawn into the empty air.

"That's fine," he relents, his voice low and intentionally soothing. He brings his lips to her ear, and her body jolts slightly as his nose nudges the side of her neck. Allen does not try to stop him. She is past the point of caring. "You can sleep if you want…"

She sighs when Tyki kisses her neck. Against her will, her eyes slide closed. Exhaustion overtakes her body, and she rests her forehead against his shoulder. For the first time in a long while, she is reintroduced to his scent; she had been smothered by it for months while in the custody of the Noah Clan, and it's the same as she remembers.

She finds that it doesn't bother her as much as it used to.

Before she falls asleep, Allen has one last moment of clarity. This, being able to find comfort in him, is hands-down the strangest and most foolhardy thing she's ever done. Her shame comes crawling back, and is accompanied by the stark realization that no matter what she learns about the man in front of her, no matter how much pity she feels for herself and for his irredeemable soul, she will one day have to kill him.

But rather than filling her with glee, the thought of being able to claim revenge just sickens her.

* * *

At first he only watches him out of curiosity.

He had grown far more suspicious of his younger brother, and bolder in his attempts at ferreting out the cause of his unusual behavior. The longer that exorcist girl is away from him, the more he notices a difference. In her absence Tyki's demeanor has changed, and it seems as though the others either do not notice it or do not care.

So, one night, he decides to spy on him.

What he sees makes his blood boil.

Sheril cannot begin to understand the appeal of having an illicit relationship with a traitorous Noah—who, he recalls, had been by all appearances human when she had first arrived on the scene. And she is an exorcist, no less! Sure, he himself has a wife, but Tricia is human, ignorant, and actually useful; she is not a liability unless she starts poking around in his private life. It's only an additional benefit that he enjoys the perks of married life, and the fact that he gets to spend more time with his adorable Road is the icing on the cake.

But  _this_? Allen Walker's presence had bothered him ever since he had met her, but this is something entirely different. He lurks in the background, hidden expertly among some nearby brambles and trees. He watches Tyki watch the inn, and he knows without a doubt that she is there. His brother makes no move to do anything, but Sheril can see that he wants to.

And, sooner than he had expected, Tyki uses his ability to go through the walls of said inn—to find her, presumably.

 _What is he doing, using his ability to rendezvous with a traitor and an exorcist? There's no doubt that he's doing something indecent_. The thought of a member of his family cavorting with that woman, especially now that she is no longer a prisoner, only intensifies his anger. Who is she, to be able to tempt his brother away from the family he so cherishes? It's blasphemous, it's indecent, and it's certainly not what Tyki would have done before she came into his life.

Being around Allen Walker, and the Fourteenth in particular must have corrupted him somehow. Perhaps it's because she has the face of that woman; had he been so infatuated with her that Tyki is willing to sacrifice his place in the Noah Clan? Had that white-haired woman managed to turn him against his own kind? She may be a Noah herself, but she is a traitorous Noah, and for that Sheril will never forgive her.

How could Tyki subject himself to this? How could he have been so easily swayed by a woman's wiles? For as long as they had been Noah, Sheril had observed his brother's apparent invulnerability to being ensnared by beautiful women; more often than not,  _he_ was the one who ensnared  _them_. He normally is far from susceptible to falling prey to those of the fairer sex—though recent developments have caused Sheril to reconsider the accuracy of  _that_  assessment of women—so how could one woman have done what countless others failed to?

In the end, Sheril reasons, it doesn't matter. Allen Walker—and that damned Noah that lurks within her—will pay for what she's done. She will pay for stealing his brother away, and she will pay for trying to tear his family apart. He will never allow her to get away with what she's done.

Silently, Sheril creeps towards the entrance to the inn.

* * *

Something is wrong, but he can't quite put his finger on it. Tyki figures that he should be satisfied right now, or at least more relaxed than he has been for the last few months of restlessness and endless misery. After all, he is here with her, and for once she had not tried to get away from him.

Sure, Allen had told him to leave before she had fallen asleep, but she hadn't possessed very much resolve when saying it. She had clearly been exhausted, and despite this she will no doubt sink back into her nightmares the moment he leaves.

He may not know exactly how she feels, but there is one thing that he _does_  understand, and that is loneliness. He feels it as acutely as she does, and it shows in the diminished twinkle in her eye and the lines of stress on her face.

So Tyki had stayed; he had lied down beside her as she fell into a heavy slumber. Even he had begun to nod off, but all of a sudden he is jolted back to awareness by the stark realization that something is  _wrong_.

Then it occurs to him. This feeling of unease, of discomfort…it feels as though someone is here, as though he is being watched.

Tyki opens his eyes, and gapes wordlessly at the sight that greets him.

_Sheril?_

His brother stands beside the bed, his face a mask of displeasure as he stares down at the two of them. At first, Tyki is so taken aback that he merely stares, but he springs into action as soon as he sees Sheril's finger twitch towards the white-haired girl.

He flinches when he slams Sheril into the wall, cursing himself for most likely waking up the entire inn—and Allen as well.

"What the…?" the young woman mumbles tiredly. Tyki can't see her, but he can tell when she sees them. She goes silent, and for the moment the two Noah ignore her presence.

"What were you trying to do?" Tyki hisses, his voice full of venom.

Sheril smiles back at him, but his younger brother is far from falling for his innocent act.

"Answer me, Sheril!"

"What should have been done a long time ago," he finally responds. "Before she brainwashed you, dear brother." With a tiny smile, Sheril raises a hand, flexing his fingers every which way.

Before he can say another word, Tyki feels himself backing away from Sheril and across the room; against his will, his hands and feet are plastered to the wall, and his eyes widen as he realizes that he is under the influence of Sheril's ability.

_I can't reject his strings? Why?_

"Did you know," his brother says, straightening out his coat, "that Noah are not immune to the abilities of other Noah? I do apologize, Tyki. I don't wish to use my strings on you, but you gave me no choice. I would rather not have you and your unsavory ability anywhere near my internal organs."

Sheril turns his attention to the white-haired girl sitting on the bed. Allen stares at him with fierce eyes as he approaches her, and she doesn't flinch. Even when he forces her to stand, she refuses to look daunted.

Sheril smiles creepily at her, leaning in so that they are nose-to-nose. "Any last words, Fourteenth, before I take you back to the Earl?"

Tyki's heart nearly stops when instead of looking fearful, Allen smiles—the grin is cocky and self-assured, and even Sheril is stunned by her malicious defiance.

"Get lost, Dezaiasu."

Sheril stares in wide-eyed shock as the young woman's skin turns gray, and without another word she rears back her hand, slamming her palm into his chest. The other Noah slams into the nearest wall, and at that moment Tyki feels the invisible strings holding him loosen. He falls to his knees and stays there for a moment, dumbstruck as Allen—or the Fourteenth, he supposes—looms over his brother, her now-golden eyes full of disdain.

"How?" Sheril coughs out, clutching his chest. "How did you break my strings?"

The Fourteenth, wearing Allen's face, shoots him a snarky grin. "Have you forgotten who I am? Well, I suppose I can't blame you. I always did like to keep some of my abilities secret. Perhaps you'd like to take a guess?"

Sheril stares up at her with a conflicted expression, but soon makes what Tyki believes to be the smartest decision.

He glances from the Fourteenth to Tyki, and seeing that he is now at a drastic disadvantage, he bolts, fleeing through the window. It's what he himself would have done, were he in his brother's position.

As soon as he leaves, Tyki stares at the woman across the room, wary of her while she is in this state.

"…Allen?"

At the sound of her given name, the white-haired girl appears to be brought back to partial awareness. She looks at him, and as she does her skin tone and eye color revert back to their usual hues.

"Are you...okay?" he asks.

Without responding, the young woman collapses.

Tyki barely manages to catch her before she hits the ground, and he examines her for any sign of injury. He places an arm beneath her back and a hand over her stomach, sighing in relief when he feels the baby kick.

_She's fine._

"Tyki?" He looks down at her half-lidded eyes, slightly relieved by her groggy voice. It can only be her that is talking to him right now; he would recognize her mannerisms anywhere. "What happened to your brother?"

"He's gone. You—the Fourteenth chased him away," he tells her, and she sighs in what he guesses to be relief coupled with an undertone of anxiety. "He will be back, though. There is no doubt in my mind that he will tell the Earl what I've done. I don't think…I don't think I'll be able to go back to the Ark."

"What are you saying?"

Tyki ignores her question; he's already off on a tangent. "You'll be targeted as well. The other members of my family, besides Road and Lulu Bell, do not know you have escaped from the Order. Sheril's probably going to go tell them right now… You have to leave, Allen. Hide out in the Fourteenth's room until…until everything dies down."

"It will never die down," the young woman sighs, clutching her swollen stomach with one hand. She shakes her head weakly. "I can't. I can't stay in there, Tyki."

"Why not?"

"It's…it's like I'm not myself there. I mean, I am, but it makes me feel strange. Whenever I look at my reflection, it's almost as though I'm just a shadow of my true self. I feel like I'm slipping more into the darkness, like the Noah is taking me over…"

His frustration becomes paramount at her explanation, but there is still a hint of sympathy. "The Fourteenth will never  _not_  be a part of you. He's growing stronger with or without the Ark's help. Just look at what happened a few moments ago! Now open the gate. There's no time to waste."

"You don't  _understand_ , Tyki.  _I can't lose myself_. Can't you see that?"

Tyki stares at her in disbelief, taken aback by her outburst. His annoyance subsides when her eyebrows furrow in pain.

"…I do," he says. "I do understand. I feel the same…but this is no time to be afraid of that. If you don't leave this world you may end up losing your life."

Allen cracks open her eyes a bit more, and they are shining with unshed tears. "I know. I  _know_ …"

As he watches her, the young woman squeezes her eyes shut tightly, and a moment later the space beside them splits open, revealing a portal of light that Tyki recognizes as the product of one of the Fourteenth's abilities.

She tries to regain her footing, but is still significantly weakened by her brief stint with Sheril.

"Tyki," she says, her tone pleading.

He knows what she's asking for without having to be told. He says nothing, but pulls her to her feet, supporting as much of her weight as he can as she leads him into the light.


	31. A Word of Honesty

Road plays with Lero at the dinner table, mindlessly twirling him around as she watches the others eat their food. She isn't hungry right now; she much prefers to try her hand at observing the other Noah.

She glances around the table, picking out all of the newly awakened Noah with her eyes. Fiddler and Maashiima are the newest recruits, bringing their current numbers up to a total of twelve, Neah included.

But, she notices with some concern, there is someone besides Tyki missing: her adoptive father, to be precise. She hasn't seen him today, or very much at all lately. If she knows him, then he's probably still sulking about one thing or another, most likely Tyki's long absences and strange behavior. She isn't simple, so she has noticed how his younger brother's strange mannerisms bother him. He himself has taken to long lapses in silence, but Road avoids bringing the subject up for fear of provoking his suspicion.

Of course, as she thinks this, she keeps an eye on Wisely the whole time; she makes sure that he cannot read her mind, and smiles when she notices him realize this fact.

_So he doesn't read the thoughts of his fellow Noah, does he? I already knew he was a liar, but this takes the cake! He just enjoys knowing everybody's secrets, be they family or not._

It's an obvious benefit that Road is able to skirt around being a subject of his power. His ability is unlike the others' in that he often uses it on subconscious whims, even on those he claims to trust; his mind reading is far more fluid than a power such as Skin's or even Lulu Bell's, mostly because it is so simple. Control of the mind is a very broad denotation, and is therefore not subject to some of the limitations that other Noah have. It is similar, however, in that although she is not necessarily immune to it, it cannot be used on her if he does not know her true form. In this sense, it has the same weakness as offensive attacks. He can still sense her presence and communicate with her on a spiritual level, but this is different from being privy to one's thoughts.

Sometimes it pays off to be able to create such illusions…

This is why Road feels safe when pondering her next course of action. Tyki has been practically stalking Allen Walker—the Fourteenth—for a few months now, and there is no doubt in her mind that the white-haired girl has noticed. However, as far as she can tell Allen hasn't done anything to stop him. Has Neah's grudge dissipated, or is he not as far along in the awakening as she had thought?

It's not that she  _wants_  Tyki and Neah to fight; she cares for them both, but she has already made a promise to the latter. She had sworn to protect him long ago, to keep his human brother and alliance with Ezra a secret. In doing so she had irrevocably defined herself as both an outcast and the primary ringleader in the new war of this generation; for the last thirty-five years, she has been the only one of their group who remains…she is the only Noah here who has true knowledge of the events of that day. If the Earl were to discover everything, she has no doubt that he would deem her a traitor as well. But even so…

She wants to save Neah, but Tyki—and by extension Joyd—as well. She cares for them both, and for the honest, kindhearted people they are on the inside, without all of the baggage and betrayal. She remembers only too well the tragedy of that day, and how she had been powerless to do anything until it had been too late. If she had gotten there in time, perhaps she could have saved them…perhaps the war could have ended back then. Perhaps then, she would not have had to spend the last thirty-five years playing at the biggest farce in the world: that she, Road Camelot, is nothing but a sadistic, genocidal puppet of the Earl.

She's so much more than that…but, at the same time, so much less.

Sheril takes everyone by surprise when he bursts into the room, and some of the clumsier Noah—the twins, to be exact—even spill food on themselves. While Jasdero whines in complaint about the fact that his pants have been ruined by hot soup, Road's adoptive father stands stiff and panicked in the middle of the dining hall. The others stare at him strangely, an awkward aura hovering in the air until the Earl breaks the tension.

"Ah, Sheril!" the large man cries, for once not wearing his ridiculous mask. His scruffy face lights up into a genuine smile, and he raises a hand in greeting, using it to wave the Noah of Desire over to an empty seat. "How nice of you to finally join us! Would you care to have a seat and partake in a family dinner? I'm sure there is some hot food leftover in the kitchen."

Sheril hesitates, but does as his master asks and sits down. His face is marred with stress, and Road eyes him warily as he settles himself into the seat. "I must apologize for being late, Lord Millennium," he says, "but this matter is of utmost importance, far more than any family dinner."

The spiky-haired girl narrows her eyes at her adoptive father, made uneasy by his excitable demeanor and the purely wrathful aura he emanates. Something particularly bad must have happened in order to drive him so close to losing his composure; the Noah of Desire may have impulsive tendencies (and by default, a short temper), but even he must be significantly provoked to have such a reaction. It feels to Road as though he is only seconds away from the breaking point of sanity.

"Oh?" the Earl singsongs, leaning back in his chair. "Well then, by all means, tell us the news, Sheril. Don't feel as though you need to hold back—and by the way, where is Tyki-pon? I assumed he was with you because I haven't seen him at all today…"

Sheril glares intensely at the table, his gloved hands clenching at his sides. "That…is precisely what I wanted to talk to you about, Lord Millennium. I've been doing some reconnaissance of my own, and it seems as though my younger brother has been getting into quite a bit of trouble lately."

Try as she might, Road cannot hold back her surprise at her adoptive father's statement. Has Sheril learned about Tyki's recent endeavors, about how he is following Allen? If so, how? She finds it difficult to believe that Tyki would have voluntarily shared this bit of information with his older brother of all people when he had been reluctant to do so with her. Furthermore, she does not recall having been followed when she had confronted Tyki, not that Sheril could have done so without her knowledge anyway. This means that he must have found out some other way; perhaps he had been spying on Tyki himself? If so, then he could have seen her talking to him without having needed to use her door to find them…

But no, if he had done such a thing then his attention would surely be focused on her as well. He hasn't so much as glanced in her direction since coming in, which means that for right now, she's in the clear.

 _It's okay for now_ , she thinks.  _Even if he does know something about what Tyki's doing, he doesn't seem to know that I'm involved. As long as I have my freedom and the Earl's trust, I should be able to find a way to help Tyki and Allen. But even so…_

"Trouble, you say?" the Earl says curiously. "What has Tyki-pon been up to this time? Is he hanging out with some of those human miners again? I do wonder why he even bothered to tell us about them—but then again, Tyki has always had a bit of a strange fetish for humans. He enjoys observing them as much as he enjoys killing them, which is something I've never been able to understand. He prefers to have both a human and a Noah life. It can only cause trouble, as I've told him many times before."

"His human life isn't the problem, Lord Millennium," Sheril interjects, his patience rapidly dissolving.

"Oh? Then what is?"

"I…I've begun following him around lately, mostly because I wanted to see where it was he kept going off to. I was doing so right before I came here, and…I saw him go into an inn. When I followed him inside, I found him with…" Sheril trails off, his anger getting the better of him as he clenches the tablecloth harshly between his fists.

"With who, Sheril? Spit it out," Devitto whines, an obvious anger mark protruding from his forehead.

"…Allen Walker."

Total silence envelops the table, and even the Earl appears to have been struck dumb by this revelation.

"Allen Walker?" he whispers, his eyes wide. "The Fourteenth?"

Sheril nods in response, and somehow the Earl's eyes manage to get even wider.

 _Oh, no_ , Road thinks.  _It's never good when the Earl gets surprised like this, especially since it's about the Fourteenth. He's so sensitive when it comes to that topic_. The spiky-haired girl worries for a moment that he will explode, but to her surprise he remains eerily calm. He remains in his seat, and with controlled movements raises a glass to his lips. He says nothing else for a few seconds, but it feels to all the other Noah like several minutes.

"What else did you see, Sheril?" he finally asks. "Were the two of them talking? What was the mood like? Give as many details as you can remember."

Said man swallows thickly; it is obvious that he does not savor the idea of retelling the story, most likely for fear that the Earl will not handle the news well. It couldn't be anything  _that_ bad, could it? Unless…

Road pales at the thought.

"They were…sleeping, Lord Millennium. Together, in the same bed as husband and wife do. It was outrageous. It seemed almost as though they…trusted each other, rather than that they were enemies. I watched them sleep for a few minutes, but when I tried to touch Allen Walker, Tyki woke up and attacked me. I managed to get him away from me by using my strings, but when I tried to take the young woman she…" Sheril looks across the room then, his expression one of utmost seriousness as he recalls the story. "It appeared as though the Noah inside her awoke. She addressed me as the Fourteenth would, and her skin became gray. She was even able to break my strings."

Once again, complete silence greets Road's ears as Sheril pauses.

"I fled while I still could. I'm sorry I couldn't do more, Lord Millennium," Sheril finishes.

As soon as he does, Road only has one thought left in her mind.

 _This isn't good_.  _Now the others are going to think that Tyki's a traitor, just like the Fourteenth…_

Indeed, as she had guessed, it doesn't seem like the Earl is taking the news well. He looks strained, as though Tyki's apparent defection has physically wounded him. His hand is over his heart, and Road idly observes that his expression is akin to the one he would have if he had been pierced with a knife. It probably does hurt him, she reasons. The Earl may be sadistic to others in certain instances—primarily the exorcists and other humans—but he cares more about the loyalty of his family than anything else in the world, even ridding the planet of humans. This is the reason why Neah and Ezra's betrayal had hurt him so much back then, and why it has persisted today. Road doesn't even want to imagine what Tyki's possible betrayal is doing to him on the inside.

After an eternity, he finally responds.

"…I see," he says, perching his hands on the table in a pensive stance. "Thank you for telling me, Sheril. It was good of you to do so."

"Lord Millennium?" Road speaks up, genuinely worried for his sanity. "Are you…okay?"

For once, when he answers her, it isn't with any sort of enthusiasm. "I am fine, Road."

The last time she remembers him being so bland in his manner of speaking is back then, on that day—the day that had changed everything. Once again, Road can feel her stomach sinking.

"If everything you say is true," the Earl continues, "and has not been misconstrued…then it seems we have another problem on our hands. If we are to assume the worst, then it appears Tyki-pon has either switched sides on us or joined forces with the Fourteenth for an unknown reason. Furthermore, this means that Allen Walker is no longer at the Black Order Headquarters. Lulu Bell?"

The cat woman shrugs. "I haven't been there in a few weeks. I've been traveling all over the world, to all of the branches of the Order. I may have missed her escape."

"Understood. In that case, we now have no idea where the two of them are at this time. It's safe to say that they are no longer in the place where you found them, Sheril. If they are smart—which I know they are—they have already left, most likely using the Fourteenth's ability. They will also be more cautious from now on when using it, which means it's likely that they will either travel rapidly from place to place or remain inside the Fourteenth's room. With this advantage, it makes it very difficult for us to either track them or keep tabs on their location, even for Road."

"Then what should our next course of action be, Lord Millennium?" Sheril asks. "If we cannot find them ourselves, then what can we do?"

"If we are unable to find them on foot, then there is really only one option left available to us—and this one, I can say with confidence, will lure out Allen Walker. We will draw her out into the open; we will make  _her_  come to  _us_  by using the single thing she cannot ignore: her friends."

* * *

_Another memory. This time, Allen is fully aware of what is happening. She's grown very used to this, being subjected to Neah's memories while asleep. This seems to be when most of them emerge, probably due to her increased vulnerability when unconscious. The Noah inside her seems to have taken note of that._

_Oh, well. It doesn't bother her as much as it used to._

_This time, she is sitting at a dining table, one that is small and round. It stands in the quaint kitchen of what she recognizes to be Ezra's home. She, wearing Neah's skin, glances around and starts at whom she sees sitting beside her._

_It's her grandmother, and she is once again holding her baby—and_ her _mother, Allen recalls. A tuft of red hair, so similar to the shade hers had once been, greets her from beneath the child's blanket, but this time it's longer than in the previous memory._

_Allen wonders at the knowledge that she is able to see her family through Neah's eyes and memories, yet had never gotten to do so in real life. Even so, she is grateful that she gets to see them at all given the circumstances. She knows that there are many people in this world who don't even get that much, so she'll try not to begrudge the world anything else—even if it seems bent on taking away what little she has left._

_But for now, the young woman decides to silence her petty thoughts and let the scene unfold before her; if she is receiving this memory now, it must be relevant in some way. She wants to learn anything she can that will help her solve the unraveling mystery of her past._

_As she watches Ezra coo at her child, it becomes obvious to Allen what she is doing; from the angle at which she holds her, and the bare part of her shoulder, it's clear that the baby is being fed. The white-haired girl has a moment of sympathy for Neah, who, rather than staring head-on, appears to be trying to look anywhere but at his fellow Noah. Even with his efforts, his eyes are still irrevocably drawn back to Ezra and the child, whether due to his curiosity or personal sentiment for both of them._

He must have cared about her a lot…

_A few moments pass, and Allen is drawn back to attention when she registers the sound of movement in the doorway. In the memory, Neah hears it as well, as does Ezra, but she soon refocuses all of her attention on her nursing baby._

_Neah's eyes, however, are still riveted on the man now standing in the doorway. He is young, with wavy shoulder-length hair that is tied back into a small ponytail at his nape. His hair is fiery red, and it contrasts greatly with his pale skin and dull brown eyes._

_And, Allen thinks with a shiver, he looks unsettlingly familiar._

Who is he? I haven't seen him in any of Neah's memories before now…maybe he just hasn't shown up yet? It's not like I know everything about the Fourteenth's life to begin with…

_The unknown man has a kind face, but when he enters the room it is overcome by a concerned frown. He wanders over to Ezra and sits down next to her, smiling instead when she raises her gaze from her daughter. Through the mask, however, Allen can tell that he wants to say something, and after a few moments of being otherwise ignored by Ezra, he does._

" _Ezra?" he says nervously, a blush creeping over her face as she exposes more of her shoulder._

" _Yes?" she replies sweetly, glancing up from her baby. "Is something the matter, dear?"_

" _Well…" He scratches the back of his neck. "I've been concerned about something lately. I was just wondering…isn't it about time you stopped nursing Jane? She is almost one and a half years old, after all, so perhaps you should start to wean her off of it. I believe the proper age is…" He cuts himself off when Ezra shoots him a warning look._

" _Nonsense!" she exclaims. "Every child is different, you know. I'll wean her off when it's time. She isn't ready yet, so don't rush her. Do you not trust me?"_

_The mystery man frowns. "I do trust you, Ezra. If you say so I will take your word into account. However, I'm sure that Neah will agree with me."_

_Both of them turn to look at Neah, and he sighs heavily at the sight of their competitive glances._

_Meanwhile, Allen is more confused than ever._

Who  _is_  this man?  _Allen wonders, hating the fact that she cannot simply ask for clarification._  Why does he seem so familiar to me? Have I met him before? It's something about his face. Maybe I just think I've met him because it's a memory of the Fourteenth, but that doesn't feel right…

" _Must you two always project your squabbles onto me?" Neah asks, sounding as though he would rather be doing anything else._

" _Yes."_

" _Yes."_

_He sighs again, but then turns to address Ezra. "You may not want to hear this, but Silas may have a point."_

Silas? Why does that name sound familiar too? I must have heard it somewhere before _…_

"… _I have heard that it isn't necessary for children to be breastfed for as long as Jane has…"_

Could it be that I heard his name in another memory? I must have, because I don't know anyone with that name…

" _So, if he's concerned about the time frame then you should take his worries into account, even if they hold no water. She's his child too, after all."_

_Suddenly, it seems as though Allen has been hit with an electric shock._

His child? Jane is…his child too…? It can't be…

This man can't be my  _grandfather_ , can he? But he…he looks human…I don't remember Neah telling me about any of this…

A Noah and a human, having a child together…has it already happened once before? Cross told me my mother was fully human!

_The surprise at this new revelation distracts Allen for a few solid seconds, but soon enough Ezra's affronted expression draws her back in._

" _Neah! I did not make you Jane's godfather so you could disagree with me."_

" _In that case, you should have picked Mana instead."_

_Ezra exhales deeply, but there is still an amused grin on her face. "In any case, I have taken your words into account, Silas. You know I always listen to what you have to say, and I do understand your worry. However, opinion is a far cry from fact, and the fact is that Jane is not ready. She's a sensitive child. I can feel it when I connect with her—you must understand how my power works by this point."_

_The frown on Silas's face disappears as Ezra finishes her statement, and he bows his head in resignation. "I do understand, my dear, but I also worry about you as well. All you do lately is take care of Jane. You stay up all night with her, and even during the day most of what you do revolves around her in some way—at least when you and Neah aren't off in one of your meetings. I worry for your health."_

" _Don't. This is what I want to do, spend time as a family. I apologize for worrying you, dear. Does it bother you that much?"_

"… _No."_

" _You don't have to lie, you know. In fact, you can't."_

" _It doesn't!"_

_The baby whines at the sound of Silas's loud cry, and Ezra hurries to settle her down. "Be careful, Silas."_

_He smiles sheepishly, placing an affectionate kiss on Ezra's cheek. "I'm sorry. I forget how sensitive she is to sounds at this age."_

_The young brunette gives a small smile as she examines her child again, but her eyes are also underlain with a peculiar sort of sadness, as though she is thinking of something else._

" _Yes, she is. She's a sensitive girl. Perhaps too sensitive for this world…"_

* * *

When she awakens, Allen at first believes that she is dead. Why else would she be in a place that looks like heaven?

Pure white surrounds her, and the young woman squints her eyes in response to the overly bright color. After a few moments of adjustment, Allen comes to realize that she isn't anywhere close to heaven, not that she thinks she'll be going there anyway.

She's back in the Fourteenth's room. In her confusion the white-haired girl seems to have forgotten that it exists, but she blames that on her groggy state. However, one other thing concerns her.

_How did I get here? I didn't sleepwalk here, did I?_

Allen sighs as she sits up and tries to maneuver her body into a sitting position. It's a bit difficult with the added bulk of her stomach, and she ends up getting stuck halfway and forming an odd shape not unlike that of a crawling caterpillar.

"Would you like some help?"

She jumps when someone else appears beside her, and her veins run cold when she sees who it is. "T-Tyki?" Her voice shakes as she forces his name through her lips, and she is taken aback by the concern he shows on his face.

He nods at her. "That's my name," he says with a grin. "I apologize if I scared you. Now let me help—"

"No," she snaps quickly, finally managing to struggle upright with the addition of her fear-induced adrenaline. She stares at him all the while, her nerves eating away at her composure as she does the only thing she can right now: wait. When she settles herself in, she swallows dryly, glancing him up and down in an attempt to ferret out his intentions. After he continues not to do anything but stare at her with unhidden alarm, she asks, "What are you…?" Her parched throat does not allow her to finish the question.

The Noah raises an eyebrow. "What am I doing here, you mean?"

A timid nod is all he receives as an answer.

Tyki frowns. "I helped bring you here, girl. Don't you remember?"

_Remember…? What is he talking about?_

At the same moment her womb begins to ache, her head also comes under siege. Allen gasps and clutches her temples as agony lances through her brain, and her body instinctively curls in on itself.

Distantly, she can hear Tyki call her name in a panicked tone, but she cannot find it within her to answer him. And then, all of a sudden, everything becomes clear: she recalls with perfect clarity the time they had spent in her room at the inn, the strange dream she had prior to his arrival, and even her asking him for help after being attacked by his brother.

Strangely enough, what she remembers most is Tyki stopping Sheril from hurting her, despite the fact that this had happened right before Neah took over. A familiar mantra echoes in her head.

" _I sense no evil intent coming from him."_

_Is it true? All of it? Why did I let him stay? Why did I decide to trust him? Was it all because of what I heard in a dream?_

Allen reminds herself that these are no ordinary dreams, however.

As the pain ebbs away she realizes that at some point Tyki had gotten closer; he is now sitting right beside her on the couch, and his hands are placed comfortingly on her shoulders.  _Comforting_ , she thinks with stark confusion.  _What's wrong with me?_

The white-haired girl opens her eyes and chances a look at the man next to her, certain that her own face must be a mask of conflict. "Tyki…did you really do all of that?"

"All of what?"

She bites her lip. "Protect me. Did you really go against the Noah Clan and the Earl?" Her voice is still shaking when she talks, but slowly her tumultuous emotions begin to balance out.

Tyki frowns. "Yes. Unfortunately, this means I'll probably be branded a traitor by the rest of the Clan."

Allen's eyes widen at his carefree attitude, but she forces herself to remain calm. "What will they do if they catch you?"

He ponders her question for barely a minute before delivering an answer with the same matter-of-fact attitude as before. "They will probably question me in order to find out the truth. Wisely will read my mind, so I won't be able to lie. Once the Earl learns the truth he will most likely kill me."

Though the prospect of anyone being murdered by his own kin is horrifying, another thought also occurs to Allen.

_If he dies, then we won't be able to end the cycle of the Noah Clan until he reincarnates._

The young woman feels simultaneously justified and guilty for thinking such a thing, especially when the object of her thought is sitting before her. Death would be no less than what he deserves, but the fact that she is thinking about it so dispassionately…it makes her feel sick. Needless to say, she doesn't dare to say this out loud.

"Aren't you…aren't you upset at all?" she says quietly, wary of how his Noah will react to her inquiry. "I thought that you'd be angry at me."

Allen flinches when Tyki gives her a piercing look, and waits in dread for the blow to land.

But instead of hitting her, the Noah gives the white-haired girl a sad mien and proceeds to change the subject entirely.

"So this is it," he says, glancing around the room. "I wondered from the moment I learned of it what the Fourteenth's room looks like."

Allen stiffens as Tyki brushes against her shoulder, and she notices his face tighten for a brief second. But contrary to what she had expected, he says nothing about her jittery behavior. He merely gets up and goes over to the piano on the other side of the room.

Tyki sits down at the bench, and the young woman watches as he examines the keys with awe before averting her eyes.

"It's quite beautiful," he observes. "The piano, I mean. It suits you very well, Allen. The Musician…so this is what you use to move the Ark?"

Though she is still suspicious of his intentions, Allen nods shyly.

"Would you mind playing it?"

She cranes her neck to look back over at him, confused by his odd request. "Do you want to go somewhere?"

Tyki shrugs. "It isn't safe for us to show our faces right now—both my family and the Order are still looking for you, after all—so we don't have to actually leave. All you need to do is play. It's perfectly fine if you wish not to, however."

The white-haired girl bites her lip and plays anxiously with her fingers. But she gets up anyway and goes over to the piano, taking a seat on the bench beside him.

She splays her fingers over the keys, allowing them to hover hesitantly as she tries to figure what to play.

_Just play the first thing that comes to your mind._

So she does, and even though she has no destination in mind, music flows through the room. What comes out of the piano is nothing short of heavenly, and for a moment Allen doubts that it is even her playing. But there are her hands, her fingers, which are glossing over the keys with expert fluidity. There is nothing on her mind, no location to think of, but she continues to play the music that reverberates in her memory.

_What is this?_

She doesn't know where it comes from, but that doesn't matter. She allows the world to bleed away, and a brief picture flashes through her mind. It's a single image, of a landscape that she has stored somewhere deep within her memories and that she has seen before only recently. A grassy field, dotted by sparse trees…the same place she had arrived in after escaping the Ark.

_Gdynia._

In the room, she can sense a door appearing.

The song breaks, the last note lingers in the room for a few drawn-out seconds, and the ensuing atmosphere is punctuated by silence. Allen stares down at her still hands as they linger over the keyboard, but she can still feel Tyki's eyes boring into the side of her face.

He wordlessly gets up and goes over to the exit that had appeared the moment she stopped, and cracks open the door. She knows what he's seeing when he looks outside, and his golden eyes light up with wonder.

"Amazing," he whispers, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight that leaks through the door. "What is this place, girl?"

Allen returns her gaze to the piano, cringing as she recalls the painful and liberating memories of being here. "One of the places I stayed after I escaped. It's where…"  _Where Kanda found me._  For obvious reasons, she doesn't feel safe mentioning this to him. "…It's the place I remember the most."

"Is it? Well, I suppose there are worse places to end up."

_I would know, wouldn't I?_

Tyki closes the door then, and the young woman listens to his light footsteps as he walks back over to her. He retakes his seat on the bench beside her, and without a word he pinches a lock of white hair between his fingers. Allen goes stiff, watching him as he does so, but doesn't say anything. She's still trying to put her mind back in order right now, and it's proving to be much more difficult than she had anticipated.

The tips of his fingers tickle her skin as the Noah continues to play with her hair, and just when she has begun to grow comfortable with the silence, he breaks it.

"You know how I said before that the piano suits you well? I take that back—it's absolutely perfect, though rest assured it isn't nearly as beautiful as you are."

Allen flushes at the compliment, and Tyki grins cheekily at her. "What are you doing?"

He looks momentarily taken aback, but soon enough his smile returns. "Complimenting you, of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"You can stop goofing around."

The Noah frowns, but resigns himself to her request. "Fair enough. What do you want, then?"

"…Honesty."

"Honesty? What do you want to know?"

Allen bites her lip again—she seems to be doing that a lot lately—and averts her eyes. "What…what do you really think of me? You always call me beautiful, but that can't be the only reason why you set your eyes on me. Beauty isn't worth this much effort."

Tyki cocks his head at her. "Is that so? Well…I always sensed that you were special," he says, his face now inches from hers. "But I had no idea that…"

"That what?" the white-haired girl inquires; she is somewhat curious to hear his answer. She angles her face towards his—and still, he doesn't let go of her hair.

"I won't lie to you. At the moment I'm having a difficult time conveying my thoughts." Tyki stops the movement of his fingers, but he still caresses her hair with one hand.

Allen raises her eyebrows, surprised at the level of honesty in his admission. "Really?"

"Indeed so. It's been happening more and more lately, and I don't quite know what to do about it."

The young woman peers curiously at him. "In that case, would you mind if I asked you something else?"

"No, not at all."

Anxiety eats away at her, but she forces down her nausea and refuses to back down. "Why…you remember hurting me the first time, don't you?"

"…Of course I do. I couldn't forget if I tried."

Allen swallows her fear, and closes her eyes as she asks him what she's wanted to know for some time. "Why did you?"

Tyki doesn't answer for a long while, but she can tell that he is thinking deeply about her question. He avoids her eyes for a few seconds as he struggles to find an answer, but soon enough he returns his gaze to her face. "Because…because at the time, I wanted to. I had wanted to for a long time, almost from the moment I first met you. Of course, I didn't know who you were back then—at least not consciously. I reacted according to the instinct of my Noah."

Allen is shaking by the time he finishes his explanation. "That's it? All because you…because you  _wanted_  to?" Her eyes burn with indignant humiliation.

Tyki looks panicked when he sees her face, and immediately he tries to rectify his insensitive statement. "I can't explain it myself. I know that I wanted to be with you, to claim you even if it were only on my terms…and subconsciously, I suppose I also wanted to hurt you, to make you suffer for what I now realize are crimes you didn't commit—and which may not even be crimes at all. I cannot explain why, because it comes from the part of me that I least understand. At best I will say that I was drawn to you from the very beginning. There was something about you that I couldn't quite place…of course I now know the reason why. However…something has changed. That desire to hurt you, to possess you, is still there, but as time goes by the less it seems like me, and more like some faceless monster who wears my skin. I am beginning to understand that even though I know the truth about you, and about the Fourteenth…my positive feelings for you remain the same. I don't wish to hurt you—but it seems that is all I've done, isn't it?"

… _Is he telling the truth?_  Allen's first instinct is to deny his claims, but she cannot find it within herself to do so—because she doesn't feel as though he  _is_  lying. Every word he says, every syllable, every inch of his emotionally charged expression is oozing honesty.

But how can that be? How can one person have two such drastically different components to his personality? How can he want to hurt her, to kill her, yet at the same time…care about her? And how can she, knowing all of his heinous crimes and being the victim of several of them, want so badly to believe him?

_Our story…it's so tragic, isn't it?_

The young woman smiles, but it's a sad smile, and Tyki knows it. "You know…" she says, "if what I've been told about the Noah Clan is true, then we will both have to die one day soon. If the cycle of reincarnation is to end, there's no other way to go about it."

She expects Tyki to react negatively to this admission, or to at least show some shock at the revelation; instead, he appears strangely calm.

"This doesn't change anything," he tells her, and she nearly chokes on the air in her lungs. "I know the Order is out to kill us Noah—that much has always been perfectly clear. Even if the situation has changed, and the cycle will end…the result is ultimately the same for me. I'll be dead."

"…But what if I'm the one who kills you?"

Tyki's eyes bore deep into hers, and beneath the sorrow in their depths the white-haired girl can also see curiosity. "War is war, girl. Just because we're here, sitting and talking instead of fighting, doesn't change that fact. Many wars begin when two nations' leaders have talked and failed to come to an agreement. However…I don't believe you wish to kill me right now, do you?"

"…No."

"Because you said you no longer hate me."

"…Yes. What are you saying?"

The Noah grins at her, but it isn't mocking—it's tragic, but at the same time filled with hope. "My point is that if you can find it in your heart not to absolutely despise me for what I've done to you, merely due to the events as of late—even though you should—then how can I hate you for having to kill me? It may sound morbid, but it's the truth—or the truth as I see it. It's not as though I wouldn't deserve it, though I do enjoy living. And at the very least, dying by your hand is probably the best way for me to go."

Allen can hardly believe her ears. She stares at Tyki, floored by his inexplicable answer. Of all the things he could have said or done, this hadn't been one she would have considered. It's almost enough to give her pause, but instead she decides to ask him one last question—a final test, in a way.

"Tyki," she says, nervously playing with her fingers.

"Hm?"

"What would you do if I kissed you right now?"


	32. A Gleam of Worry

He hadn't told them everything. It's obvious that something is still bothering Sheril, something that he hadn't told them about. Road watches him as he starts to eat along with everyone else, and her eyes narrow when she notices a regular pattern.

She's very good at reading people, and what she's reading is that her adoptive father is still unhinged. There is something odd about the way he eats his food, as though he is fighting a strong urge to spit it out.

 _A lack of appetite…a normal reaction to seeing something nauseating, but what is it that he saw? Allen-chan and Tyki sleeping together wouldn't necessarily be a cause of such blatant disgust…unless they had been intimate, but that doesn't seem right_. _In fact, he would probably find some degree of enjoyment in watching it._

_So what, then?_

The way Sheril sits is odd, too; he is tense and stressed, and his movements and posture are eerily mechanical. Every fork and spoonful he brings to his lips is calculated, as though he cannot be bothered to actually pay attention to what he's eating. Instead, the usually picky eater takes measured, repetitive bites, and chews them with bizarre precision that comes across as robotic, almost like the behavior of an Akuma.

Indeed, everything he does is a red flag to Road—a red flag that speaks of untold secrets, but thankfully, no one else at the table says anything about it. However, the fact that Wisely is in the room fills her with unease; does he know what's on Sheril's mind? If so, will it hurt either Allen-chan or Tyki in any way? She can only hope that he is aloof enough to not read the other man's mind right now. If anything, the others probably think that Sheril is still disturbed by what he had seen earlier, and she is certain that he is.

However, Road is also certain that there is something else bothering him—something that he had neglected to mention to the Earl. As she has reiterated numerous times, she is very good at reading people; she tends to know when someone is keeping secrets, even without the benefit of being able to read minds.

But, the fact that someone at the table  _can_  read minds is deeply unsettling to the spiky-haired Noah. She knows for a fact that if Wisely catches wind of anything that may be of interest to the Earl, he will tell him. She doesn't trust him in the slightest, and she frankly doesn't know that he trusts her, given the fact that he has tried to read her mind on numerous occasions.

Road is willing to bet that he doesn't, and it frustrates her to no end. But there is nothing she can do about it right now, so in spite of her frustration, she decides to simply wait for an opportunity to confront her adoptive father without fear of eavesdropping.

It takes longer than she had thought, mostly because she wants to make sure that Wisely is not anywhere nearby. Such a wish is most likely futile anyway, since the Noah of Wisdom will without a doubt wait for a chance to invade Sheril's mind at his leisure.

 _Oh, well—it doesn't matter. I just need to figure out what he knows._  She's fairly certain of what it is, but she would like confirmation just to be sure.

So Road waits until Wisely is located somewhere else in the Ark, somewhere far out of range. It's already late in the evening by the time she skips over to Sheril's room, for once not bringing Lero with her. She finds him huddled over a stack of papers at his desk, and a quick glance at the headlines reveals them to be official documents related to his position as Minister—nothing particularly interesting, and nothing that clues her in as to his current state of mind.

Road plasters a large, innocent grin on her face and wraps her arms around his neck.

"Hello, Father," she greets him, hoping the cutesy behavior will warm him up a bit. It has never failed to do so in the past, and more often than not he will drop everything to pay attention to her. "What are you doing?" She leans her head over his shoulder, and out of the corner of her eye she sees her adoptive father smile.

"Oh, nothing really, my dear," he tells her, brushing off the question in the usual manner he employs when discussing business. "Just going over some paperwork—documents and such. I'm a busy man, remember? It's actually quite boring, though."

"Oh?" she says, tilting her head to the side. Road narrows her eyes, thinking quickly about what to ask him in order to not seem suspicious. "I'm sorry for interrupting."

"Don't be, my dear. You know I love when you want to spend time with me! It gets so lonely sitting in here for hours at a time, but I must keep up a hardworking appearance in order to blend in with the humans."

Road giggles at his characteristically enthusiastic behavior. "Well, I just wanted to check and see if you were doing okay."

Sheril cranes his neck to look back at her, some of his positive charm gone. "Why is that, Road?"

"Well…" she says, pretending to look nervous. "It's just that you were acting so upset before when you told all of us about Tyki, and I was worried about you. I didn't know if I should ask you about it or not."

At the mention of his brother's name, Sheril stiffens. "You were worried? I'm sorry to worry you, dear, but I was just upset at him."

"Because he's a traitor?"

"…Yes. Because of that."

Road makes a humming noise low in her throat, trying to make it seem as though she is pondering something. "But that's not all you're upset about it, is it? I mean, of course you're upset that he's with the Fourteenth. So is everyone else; they all seemed shocked when you told them, but they went back to their relatively normal behavior a bit after. But you still seem really upset. That's why I was wondering—you seem like you know something else that's going on. Is there?"

Sheril turns to glance at her again, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Is there what?"

Road glances in all directions before whispering her next question into his ear. "Is there something else going on with Tyki? Something that you didn't tell the Earl about? You can trust me, you know. I won't tell on you to Lord Millennium."

The spark in Sheril's eye is only there for a second, but Road catches it before he glances away. "Why do you ask, my dear? Have you noticed something as well?"

The young girl places a finger on her cheek. "Well, I did talk to Tyki a few days ago. I was curious about him just like you were, since he's been acting so strange lately. I wanted to see what he was up to. I didn't see Allen anywhere, but I found Tyki loitering on a sidewalk next to an alley. When I found him he seemed really upset, but I didn't know why. And when I asked him about it, he avoided the question, like he was hiding something from me. I thought that he was just goofing off and didn't want to get in trouble, so I didn't say anything to anyone."

Sheril sighs forlornly and in his usual melodramatic fashion. "No, I'm afraid not. It's much more than that, Road. You're very clever to have noticed his odd behavior, but it's not so simple. My brother…well, I don't know if I should tell you, dear. I wouldn't want to concern you with it."

Road frowns. Acting cute and innocent most of the time does have its downsides on occasion. "Please?" she coos. "You can tell me. I'm close to Tyki too, you know. I want to know if something's wrong with him. I don't want to believe that he's a traitor unless I know everything about what's happened."

Her adoptive father stays silent for a few seconds, and she makes her best pleading face at him. Finally, Sheril sighs in defeat.

"All right, then. If you really want to know…but you have to promise not to tell anyone yet, okay?"

The spiky-haired girl nods eagerly and entwines her pinky with his. "I promise, Father."

Sheril smiles gently at her, but his expression soon devolves into a frown. "Road…this may come as a shock to you, but I'm afraid my brother has…fathered a child with Allen Walker. When I ran into them, she was pregnant."

Road pretends to be surprised for her father's sake; she widens her eyes and claps a hand over her mouth to display her disbelief. In reality, however, she isn't taken off guard by the revelation. As a matter of fact, learning that Allen is pregnant does not shock in the least. She had already suspected as much, anyway.

When she had seen Tyki following Allen down the street in London, the young Noah had speculated that the white-haired girl had looked…different, somehow. There had been an unusual glow to her skin, and on top of that her choice of clothing had stood out prominently. Though Road had not been able to see beneath the large coat, she has a pretty good idea of what it had been concealing.

In any case, it would have been far more abnormal if Allen  _hadn't_ gotten pregnant, given what Road knows Tyki had been doing to her during her time in captivity. It had been obvious every time she came to check on her, what with Allen's progressively tenuous mental state. Every time it happened Road could always tell, because the haunted sheen in the young woman's eyes grew deeper, more tragic. Several times she had looked upon Tyki with disappointment, and was only able to hold her tongue for fear of arousing suspicion. Still…even now it breaks her heart to know that someone she cares deeply for had hurt Allen in that way—she can only speculate on the emotional trauma she will surely retain.

But even so, Road still holds onto the hope that Tyki can be redeemed, that he is capable of acknowledging his mistakes—and Joyd's as well. Of course, at the moment, this is probably the least of his worries. At least Allen doesn't seem to be trying to kill him. If anything, she is most likely using him for protection—that, or Tyki has kidnapped her again, but something tells Road that it's not the latter.

"Wow…" she finally says, meeting Sheril's eyes. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. When the Fourteenth attacked me I saw her stomach. There's no mistaking it."

 _So it's already obvious, huh? I wonder how far along she is, then. Surely it's been over six months by now, if you think about the timing of her escape. Of course, that's assuming that the baby is Tyki's in the first place_. She has no doubt in her mind that it is.

"I can't believe it!" Road gasps. "Tyki, being a father…but with him being deemed a traitor and all, I don't see anything good coming from it."

Her adoptive father places his chin on his hand, his gaze only deepening with worry.

Road frowns as something else occurs to her. "Father…this is pretty big news. The child of two Noah—one has never been born before, though way back when the Earl was talking about creating one to see what would happen. But since everything happened with the Fourteenth, he never got around to it. Who knows what's going to happen with Allen's baby, or what abilities he or she might have?"

Sheril's own frown intensifies. "You're right—and the thought has occurred to me as well. But what are you implying, my dear?"

"Well…" Road unwraps her arms from around his neck, and instead jumps up to sit on his desk. Her legs dangle off the edge, and she playfully swings them forward and backward. "I was just thinking that the fact that this baby exists is really important to our family. Lord Millennium would definitely want to know about it, right? So why didn't you tell him when you had the chance? Are you worried about how he might react?"

Just as she had thought, Sheril looks uncomfortable with her line of questioning. He averts his eyes from hers and stares down at the piles of paper on his desk, looking as though he wants nothing more than to bury himself in them. "That's part of the reason. And it's also because…well, no matter how angry I am at Tyki, he is still my brother. It's one thing for the Earl to know about him being with the Fourteenth, but if it's discovered that they created a child together…I worry that he will kill Tyki and take the baby once it's born. Surely Tyki would be furious if that were to happen."

"What do you want to happen, then?"

"…All I want is for the Earl to catch Tyki and make him see the error of his ways. If I told Lord Millennium about the child's existence, then he would know it was I who did it. I believe my brother would hate me—no, I know he would hate me. I would have betrayed him in the worst way possible: by putting his child in danger."

For a moment Road feels genuine sympathy for Sheril, because she more than anyone else understands the internal conflict of trying to appease two people with conflicting desires. To care for two people who are pitted against each other…there is little else in the world that can make one feel so useless, so inept.

"I get it," she tells him. "But Father, if the Earl carries through with his plan to lure Allen out, then Tyki will definitely follow. If both of them show up at the same time, then it'll be obvious what's happened, and the result will be the same, won't it?"

"…Yes."

"And if his plan doesn't work, or if Allen somehow ends up getting away and going back to the Order, then they might kill the child or turn it into a weapon to use against us. Either way, the child will suffer."

"…Yes," Sheril says, sounding even more defeated than before. "That's why I'm so stressed at the moment, my dear. I cannot find a solution to this problem that will satisfy everyone. I don't want my brother to die, and I don't want to sit idly by while my niece or nephew is hurt or killed. And at the same time, I wish for the Fourteenth to be punished. I at first wanted to bring her back with me, but the more I think about it the more glad I am I failed in doing so. Surely Tyki will hate me if I do that as well. I must confess…I'm currently at a loss of what to do."

"Well, Tyki and Allen are the ones who have to figure something out," Road says. "And for the sake of everyone involved, I hope they figure it out soon."

* * *

When she first asks him, Tyki doesn't say anything back for a while. Instead, he merely stares at her, and the white-haired girl muses on the fact that he looks as though he's gone into shock. His face has gone entirely blank, and is devoid of any emotion except for surprise. His golden eyes are wide and piercing, and his mouth hangs partially open.

It's almost laughable, really, and Allen would have done exactly that if she were not trying to be serious. She honestly wants to know his answer, and part of her even wishes to test it out as well. Would he take advantage of her if given the chance like before? Or, if she were to kiss him, would he take that and be happy with it? Would he use her again? If he has changed as much as he claims, then this is one way she knows how to validate it.

And…she would be lying if she said she isn't the smallest bit curious, and even a little nervous as well. Her stomach is fluttering enough to make her want to vomit, but she holds back that urge.

Finally, Tyki seems to recover enough to reply—but when he does, his answer is in the form of a question.

"Why would you ask me something like that?"

The young woman shrugs, idly playing with the hem of her sleeping shirt. She prays not to lose her nerve now, and praises herself when she manages not to stutter. "Will you answer me or not?"

"It seems to me as though you want to provoke me. Is that what you're doing?"

"That's not an answer."

"Hmm…then I don't know. If you were to kiss me, I wouldn't be able to help but wonder if this were just another ploy to get away from me. I can't imagine it to be anything else, given our history together. I know what you must think of me, even if you claim not to hate me."

He isn't necessarily wrong, Allen thinks, unresolved guilt still eating away at her. But what does she have to be guilty for? Even now, though her plan is not to escape, she is only interested to see whether or not he respects her personal space. She shouldn't feel guilty for it. She's justified in having her suspicions.

Yet, these feelings still stubbornly refuse to go away. And as for her kissing him…there is something about the prospect that both frightens her and compels her. She wonders about the possibility, of how he would treat her as compared to back then, in the beginning. On the day that she had escaped, he had been—dare she think it—gentle. Kind. Considerate. All of these words are ones that she would have never subscribed to Tyki Mikk only a few months ago; if asked back then she would labeled him as horrid, sadistic—even evil.

But now? She remembers how he had acted, and how he had made her feel—not emotionally, but physically. Emotionally, he had done something even stranger; he had destroyed her, only to desperately try to rebuild her again. But why? Why bother to do such a thing after all he had put her through? Why bother to suddenly show regret, to be nice after weeks of torment? He could have done anything to her, and she would have been powerless to stop it. So why?

_Because he cares about you._

There's that voice again; that tiny echo in the back of her mind that is constantly nagging her, telling and reminding her of all the things she cannot forget, but also cannot comprehend. He's told her the same himself, but still the notion is foreign. Why does he have to care? Why does he have to treat her this way now? Why does he do this to her?

And why,  _why_ , does she want to forgive him? Is it just for her own peace of mind?

"I just…wanted to know," she says, whispering into the air.

And still, he hears her. "Are you testing me, to see if I'll take advantage of you? If so, you aren't being very subtle about it. I can read what you're feeling."

"That's not the point…well, I guess we both have our own reasons for being suspicious of each other, don't we?"

"I believe you reserve more of a right to be suspicious than I do."

"I know."

Tyki exhales heavily, turning his eyes on her. Allen flushes under his intense scrutiny. "In any case, if you were to kiss me, I will not stop you. If I'm being honest, I don't think I would ever reject you. However, knowing where you stand, I will only do anything if you ask me to."

"Anything?"

Tyki nods. She flushes again at the implication of his words.

 _This is my chance_ , she tells herself.  _He's given me an opening. Now I can see if he actually means what he says_. "If that's true…then kiss me." She silently applauds herself for her bravery, but still feels her face reddening and her stomach swirling when she glances back at him. He looks much the same as she feels, and if she isn't mistaken, he almost appears hesitant at her request.

"Are you sure?" he asks her, sounding wary.

Against her better judgment, she nods.

Though some of the suspicion leaves his gaze at her gesture, Allen can still sense his hesitation. All of the subtle movements he makes as he draws closer speak volumes about his lingering uncertainty, and this relieves her somewhat. His hesitation tells her of his true intentions; it demonstrates that he fears her reaction, that he doesn't just want this to end up like it had many times before—when he had forced himself on her in spite of her protests. It rings far more similar to when  _she_ had used  _him_ —and in a way that's exactly what she is doing. His behavior is even a bit endearing, and if he were anyone else the white-haired girl would have pegged him as shy. But since it's Tyki, she knows that his actions—or lack thereof—are intentional.

The butterflies in her stomach grow to unbearable proportions when she feels Tyki's breath hit her face; the warmth he exudes causes goose bumps to rise on her skin. A shiver runs down her spine, and when his lips finally find hers she fears that she will vomit—not entirely out of disgust, but out of nervousness. But instead of being overwhelming, the kiss is short and sweet, and it leaves her lips tingling with a sensation that she cannot quite place—but she knows that, in its absence, she suddenly feels…empty.

And she isn't afraid.

When Tyki pulls away from her, he sets his gaze on her face, most likely in an attempt to gauge her reaction. She doubts that he will be able to decipher how she's feeling, anyway; even she seems to be having a problem doing that lately.

But she is certain of one thing.

"Do it again."

This time, Tyki raises a questioning eyebrow. "What?"

"Kiss me again."

"I thought that you only wanted to do it as a test."

"Are you going to listen to me or not?"

He doesn't answer her in words. This time, the kiss he gives her is more self-assured, more confident; he captures her lips with experienced skill, and molds their mouths together with fluidity and grace. Allen even closes her eyes this time, intent on immersing herself in this feeling if it means she will not feel other, more negative emotions.

Tyki's tongue drags across her lower lip, and she squirms against him as warmth ignites in her belly. She once more summons up the courage to touch him, and slides her hands up his biceps and across his shoulders. She holds them there, as it to brace herself against his solid form. But just as she digs her fingers into his skin, he breaks the kiss again.

And this time, when he does, she is frustrated both at herself and at him.

 _He really isn't going to try anything else_ , she realizes. For some reason, this thought fills her with both relief and disappointment.

"Why do you keep stopping me?" she asks.

Tyki looks confused by her question. "You only told me to kiss you, not to go any further."

Irrational anger fills her. He has given her what she hasn't had in months: human closeness. And though she knows that he will do more if she asks, she still finds herself angry with him. While she had been alone, there had been many days and nights when her skin had longed for another human's touch, and Allen had always felt ashamed when  _he_  was the first person to come to her mind. Not Kanda, whom she had also been with briefly, but  _him._

But could she really be faulted for that? Tyki is the first person who had ever touched her, even if the first time had been horrifying, and that will never change. It only makes sense that she would think of him when yearning for another person's touch. He is nearly all she knows.

"Again," she says, nearly breathless with unvented frustration.

Even so, Tyki still looks concerned. "Is this really what you want, Allen?" When she looks at him there is a gleam of worry in his eye—but there is also something about the way he is staring at her, something coy and compelling that instills a new level of frustration within the white-haired girl.

Before she has a chance to think about what she's doing, she pounces on him. Tyki is wholly unprepared when she crushes her lips to his with bruising force; she wraps her arms around him so as to halt him if he tries to escape. He could probably still get away if he so chooses.

But he doesn't try. Instead, he reciprocates, and his hands roam along her sides and latch onto her hips in a way that sets off a flame in the pit of her stomach. It's nearly unbearable, and in response she bites down on his bottom lip. Tyki responds with volatile enthusiasm; he prods at her own lips eagerly, and she opens her mouth to him without further compulsion. He battles with her for control, and as usual, he wins—but this doesn't bother her in the slightest. Far from it, actually; Allen lets out a tiny moan as his tongue rolls against hers, and his teeth nibble gently on the flesh of her lip.

At the sound of her voice Tyki stiffens against her. He draws back for a moment to look into her eyes. His lips are red and swollen—just like hers—and his golden orbs search her silver ones for what she assumes is compliance.

But she never gives him a chance to ask the question she knows is on his mind.

"I want you to have sex with me."

* * *

Tyki feels as though he is going to have an aneurism. At first he believes that he must have heard her wrong, because surely Allen would never use such foul expressions; hearing her utter such vulgar language is something that he had never thought he would experience, nor had he ever really considered it. It turns him on, to be certain—he can already feel himself growing hard against her—but it also confuses and concerns him.

 _What has gotten into her? Why is she acting this way?_  He had heard from many sources that pregnant women tended to be extremely hormonal, so perhaps she had gotten caught up in the moment when they had been kissing. It wouldn't surprise him. If so, then, does that mean he would be taking advantage of her by going any further? It isn't as though she is drunk, but even so, it concerns him.

However, what concerns him more is that she is doing this as an outlet for emotional baggage. This possibility causes an unpleasant pit to form in his stomach.

But still…even with her engorged abdomen, she is as beautiful as she has always been. Just as before, the sight of her flustered expression and silver eyes that are clouded with lust is one that he would have died happily to see in his final moments. It's a gruesome thought, but one that he does not doubt is true—and even with these rampant desires running through him, he finds it within himself to ask.

"Do you really want me to?"

" _Tyki_ ," Allen hisses, clearly fed up with his hesitation. She slides her hands up to his scalp, threading her fingers through his curly hair. Her nails rake gently across his skin, and it feels so wonderful that he even releases a small sigh. In that instant, when she catches his eye with her fiery expression, Tyki knows that he's a goner.

"Not here," he says sharply, pulling her off of the bench and towards the sofa. He sits her down on one end, and angles himself over her body so that he does not put too much pressure on her belly. He props himself up against the headrest with his arms, and without waiting for clearance, kisses her fiercely. She responds with equal fervor, grabbing him and digging her nails deep into his back.

Tyki hisses at the pain caused by sharp nails piercing his skin, and allows one hand to entangle itself in her hair. His lips inch away from hers, sliding downwards to pepper kisses on her chin and throat. Allen appreciates his effort, for she throws her head backwards into the cushion, breathing heavily at the sensation of his lips attacking her skin. At the same time, her shaking fingers latch onto the buttons of his shirt and begin the process of removing it.

When his upper body is exposed to her, the white-haired girl pauses and stares up at him. She runs her hands across the expanse of his chest, and Tyki cannot hold in a labored exhale as she does. Her palms feel wonderful against his skin, and he only holds himself still through sheer willpower. Even so, he is sure that she can detect the subtle shaking of his limbs as he holds himself over her. If she does, she doesn't say anything about it, as she is far too involved in her own explorations of his body.

Allen appears to be wholly absorbed by the feeling of his skin against her palms, and she takes her time in learning all of the contours of his exposed muscles, all the dips and curves of his spine that she had never gotten the chance to fully observe. She eyes the way his body moves, the way his skin stretches taut over trained, lithe flesh. This is her first time doing so without any other ulterior motives on her mind—at least, he hopes so. And since it is, Tyki allows her to do as she pleases with him.

Her nails rake over his skin and leave burning paths in their wake, and before too much time has passed he can feel himself about to burst. Desire swirls in his lower abdomen, both for her and for what he wants to make her feel. He buries his head in the warmth of her collarbone, sucking and nibbling on the scorched tender flesh he finds there; her sleeping shirt has slipped down past her shoulder, and he takes full advantage of the exposed skin.

Allen's moans are like music to his ears, and he has been deprived of them for far too long. All at once, Tyki comes to the stark realization that he cannot wait any longer—he wants her  _now_. If her wanton cries are any indication, she wholeheartedly agrees.

Her swollen belly presses against him as he descends her body, and he is careful not to put too much pressure on the being growing inside. The feeling of it against his cheek, however, soothes him for some unknown reason.

But then he is perched between her legs, and she spreads them for him, bending her knees slightly so as to make his task easier. Tyki slides her loose pants off with little effort, and her underwear soon follows. Though his most base instinct is telling him to finish undressing and bury himself within her, he manages to keep from doing so for her sake. Instead, he places a fleeting kiss to her knee, and she shudders against his lips. He begins to move up her leg, getting progressively higher until he reaches her inner thigh. Meanwhile, his hands continuously rub soothing circles into her legs, relaxing the muscles and causing her to breathe ever harder.

Allen writhes against him, obviously fed up with the games he is intent on playing with her. She's practically glistening already, but still, Tyki refuses to give into his primal urges until he is satisfied that he's driven her insane.

Slowly, and with a speed that is deliberately torturous, he presses his tongue against her, humming a low tune into her flesh; her legs reflexively stiffen from the sudden stimulation, and she releases a high-pitched cry that she attempts to muffle with her hand.

"You shouldn't do that," he tells her huskily, whispering the words into her core. "Don't hide from me."

Without waiting for an answer, he balances her legs on his shoulders, and proceeds to torture the white-haired girl in the most beautiful way he knows how.

"T-Tyki," she mumbles hoarsely, her moan turning into a keening whine when he presses his tongue against the nub between her folds. Her legs are nearly choking him, but he resists the temptation to escape the asphyxiating trap. If she were to choke him into unconsciousness—again, he might add—it would be well worth it to see her squirm.

He continues to lap eagerly at her, driving the young woman up the wall with desire until he feels her inner walls begin to contract. Only then does he separate from her, denying Allen the release she so desperately craves. He crawls back up the length of her body, and once more captures her lips. The white-haired girl whines painfully into his mouth, her expression contorted into one of agony—no doubt resulting from the ache he had left her with.

"You bastard…" she cries out, her hands reaching immediately for his pants. He targets her shirt, expertly unbuttoning the garment and waiting until his trousers are unfastened to slide it off of her.

But it's no use; this angle is inconvenient and tricky what with the addition of her stomach, and Tyki growls with frustration as he bites harshly at her neck. Allen gasps at the sudden display of possessiveness, and pushes him away from her with renewed strength.

His stomach sinks with guilt, and he's about to apologize for his hasty action when she does something that nearly makes him groan aloud.

Allen turns so that her back is facing him, and props herself up on the back of the couch. She glances at him over her shoulder, her gaze intense. He doesn't need her to say anything; Tyki dives for her neck and lavishes open-mouthed kisses on her throat. He uses both hands to stimulate her chest, holding her breasts gently in the palms of his hands. He knows that they must be sensitive right now, and he tries not to hurt her. His thumbs flick over her nipples, and the young woman squirms against his chest. She releases breathless moans as she does so, whining his name into the open air.

"Tyki, I—"

He doesn't let her finish the sentence. Without a word he buries himself within her, and nearly groans at how amazing she feels. Her heat surrounds him to the point where it drives him almost insane, and he breathes raggedly against her throat when he pulls out of her. She does the same, only hers is accompanied by a drawn-out moan.

He continues on like this for a few moments, relentlessly teasing her hardened peaks until the white-haired girl is all but thrashing in his grip.

She mumbles something incoherent as his hand descends a bit lower.

"What was that?" Tyki runs a hand across her stomach, allowing one finger to dip between the patch of curls and rub against her swollen nub.

Allen cries out when he touches her and cranes her neck backwards. Tyki captures her lips as she leans closer to him, and the two once again resume their battle for dominance. She fights harder this time, sending a jolt of pain through his tongue that makes his blood sing even more. He smirks against her mouth, playfully running his finger along her folds.

He savors the way Allen squirms to meet his movements, the way her head falls back against his shoulder as her body loses control, and the way she gasps his name with airless lungs.

She's close. He can feel her inner walls begin to contract and flutter around him, and in the instant before her climax Tyki reattaches his lips to her throat. Her peak washes over her in waves, and the sound of her moan is enough to send him to his own. This time, when bliss washes over him from head to toe, it isn't accompanied by guilt. This time the afterglow actually lasts, and he savors it as Allen leans the back of her head against his shoulder. He rests his hands on her stomach and closes his eyes, allowing himself to feel her as she comes down from her high.

Then, he feels something that makes him frown. She is shaking against him; her limbs curl in on themselves, cradling her stomach as she leans back against him. She reaches up to subtly wipe her face, and with a jolt Tyki realizes that she is crying.

"Allen?" he asks. "Is something wrong?"

The young woman shakes her head and turns her watery gaze towards him. When she does, there is a smile on her face, but Tyki severely doubts its authenticity.

"No, not at all," she tells him. "It's just…"

She doesn't finish her sentence, and he doesn't press her for answers. He allows her to lean her head against his chest, and without saying anything he rearranges their bodies into a more comfortable position. All the while, however, the image of her crying face is burned into his retinas. A part of him is saying to leave her be, to give her space, but a more dominant part is telling him to stay.

He chooses the latter—but even so, the doubt still remains.

 _I don't understand her. She's all over the place, but now she refuses to say what's on her mind._  He supposes he shouldn't expect her to open up to him much, but even so, not knowing still bothers him.

And, not for the first time, he cannot help but wonder if he hasn't made a huge mistake.


	33. A Point of View

It's surreal how quickly your entire world can change. People tend to forget that everything in your life—all of which seems so glaringly significant in the moment—can become meaningless, all in the blink of an eye. A single event can alter everything, even a missed train or a stranger's death.

So can a person. Someone who had once meant nothing to you can soon become the most important piece of your life's puzzle. Tyki knows this firsthand. It's strange, he thinks—and at the same time, not so strange at all. He has become accustomed to his life's unerringly chaotic nature in the most recent weeks, so he is able to maintain a calm aura most of the time. After all, he is used to being hunted by the Order and their lackeys; what's one more set of people to worry about? It just means there will now be greater threats to evade, more people who are determined to catch him and the young woman he is traveling with.

Yes. That's all it is. There is no need for him to be especially disturbed by recent events, even if said event is the fact that his own family, the Noah Clan, has decided to get in on the hunt for him. He harbors no doubts that the Earl will act on whatever Sheril has told him, and if he knows his brother then he hasn't stayed silent about what he had seen. But even having spent so long taking action at the Earl's beck and call and associating with his fellow Noah, Tyki finds this sudden betrayal to be of little consequence. He has been drifting apart from the people he calls family for a long while now, and getting caught with Allen had only sped up the inevitable. He doubts that he would have willingly stayed under the Earl's thumb for much longer anyway.

He has other plans in mind.

Besides, things have changed. Any hybrid child of two Noah will be coveted by both sides of the war, and that means both the Earl and the Noah Clan will be intensifying their search for Allen. If cutting off all ties to them means that Tyki will no longer be forced to go after the mother of his child, then he will gladly take on the role of outcast. She is an outcast too, after all.

And, he reminds himself, his fellow outcast needs him—though probably not as much as he needs her. Tyki may be relatively calm in the face of danger, but there is one thing that disturbs him, and that is Allen.

* * *

A week passes after the two of them have sex. Tyki keeps track of time in his mind, intent on memorizing every detail of their journey. Unfortunately, in his analytical state he also notices the white-haired girl's sudden shift in behavior. Of course, he had noticed how off she had been that night—the night when she had all but thrown herself at him. Ever since then, she acts moody and distant, and Tyki sees her drastic change in temperament as being exceptionally strange. When they had first met up again, she had acted calm, then skittish, and now…

Now it's even worse.

Allen never gives him a reason as to why she had been crying afterwards. Tyki can only speculate that it had been because he's done something wrong, that he's hurt her again somehow. He thinks back to that day, and tries to remember if he had missed something. Had she ever told him to stop? Not that he can recall; her eyes and body language had seemed to communicate the opposite, in fact. As far as he remembers, everything they had done had been consensual—he even recalls Allen being angry with him when he didn't do what she wanted. He had been focused on her the entire time, and never had the young woman appeared to be distressed, at least not until after. Tyki likes to think that he is good at reading people, so the fact that he is at a loss for answers irritates him.

He thinks back again. In the minutes prior to or following their tryst, had Allen said anything, anything at all, that could provide a clue as to why she is acting so distant? No matter which way he looks at it, nothing in particular comes to mind. She had been about to say something while she had been crying, but she had stopped herself from doing so.

What had she been about to say? The fact that he is so inept at figuring it out only makes him feel that much worse, that much more helpless at fixing whatever the problem is. Not a moment goes by when he sees her and is okay with the image that greets him—one of a silent, stoic woman, whose emotional displays consist only of frequent crying.

For one thing, Allen never sleeps well anymore. For a brief period after she falls asleep, she will be relatively peaceful; but then, not too many minutes later, the white-haired girl begins to thrash fitfully. She tosses and turns from her position on the couch, and at times Tyki genuinely worries that one of these days she will fall off and hurt both herself and the child growing inside her. She has become even bigger than before, and he muses that perhaps the stress of imminent labor is taking a toll on her mental state. Coupled with everything that's been happening to her as of late, he wouldn't be surprised. All he can think to do for her when she gets like this is sit beside her on the floor, dozing off as he leans against the sofa and holds her hand in his. If nothing else, the physical contact seems to calm her down somewhat, enough to halt her most violent movements. It makes his chest ache every night when he sees her, her expression awash with pain that he knows is more emotional than physical.

And that's not all. Even when the white-haired girl is awake, she acts wholly different from what he is accustomed to. Her behavior is often akin to that of a zombie, and at worst that of an Akuma; the thought alone makes him shiver. She is distant, aloof, and weighed down by whatever it is she sees behind her cloudy, haunted eyes.

Lately he can't even bring himself to look into them. They're dull much like they were when she had been trapped with him, but the situation still seems different somehow.

Allen isn't herself. This is something else. He can't tell if she looks that way all the time, or only when she looks at him, but no matter which answer it is it will still make his skin crawl. Half-hatred, half-sadness…he doesn't know which emotion reigns supreme. It drives him mad just thinking about it, with nothing else to do while he is with her. He knows that taking out his pent-up frustration on her will do nothing to fix the issue, whatever that issue might be.

Because even worse than the white-haired girl's dull, stoic eyes are the regular intervals in which she actually shows emotion, when she actually lets her true feelings show through. It is usually at night when she is particularly vulnerable, and it disturbs him enough not to let him sleep. Tyki feels uncomfortable when she cries. There is a part of him that thrives on it, and he remembers how he used to merely find enjoyment in her misery rather than clarity.

But now that's gone. No longer does he gain a sick sense of satisfaction from watching Allen cry. Now he only feels stark discomfort—and yes, a fair bit of guilt as well. He does feel some empathy towards her, after all. And the worst part is that, despite the fact that he feels guilty when he sees her in such a sorry state, he still cannot understand her. He watches her when she sleeps and when she thinks he isn't looking, and he sees her internal conflict written all over her face. She is still painfully on edge around him, still wary whenever he nears too close. Perhaps she thinks that after last time, he will take advantage of her again at his leisure. For all he knows, the young woman could still be trying to test his resolve. She had all but said so last time, when she had asked him to kiss her. This could just be a continuation of her scheme.

Yet, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself of this fact, Tyki cannot believe it. It doesn't seem right. No one in her right mind would act the way she is; nothing about her behavior tells him that it's a lie, though admittedly Allen isn't in the best mental state to begin with. Even so, there is something about the way she acts, the way she withdraws into herself when he tries to speak to her about the issue, that gives him pause.

" _There's nothing wrong_ ," she will say, her eyes pointedly averted from his gaze. " _Nothing at all."_

 _Nothing. What an utter lie_.

There's no way that this can be just a test. If it were, surely the white-haired girl would have given it up by now. The additional stress of having to watch his every move can't be good for the child's health, and Allen has to be aware of this. She cares more about the baby than he has a right to expect.

And this is why, when Tyki looks at her, he feels a stabbing pain in his chest—because no matter how hard he tries, he cannot tell what she is thinking. He can see what she is feeling, but beyond that he is clueless. No matter what he says to her, she continuously responds in a stoic, timid fashion, and most of the time she refuses to even make eye contact with him.

And then, when he finally relents and leaves her to her own devices, it's even worse. The young woman will stare at the wall, her face devoid of all emotion but for the weary gleam in her eye. She will not say anything to him, and she will not need to. Tyki can see all that he doesn't want to within the hollow depths of her gaze: her misery, her internal battle, and her unbound sadness. Then, as he watches, she will descend even more into the dreary landscape.

And then he looks away.

* * *

Living on their own while trying to stay under the radar comes with its own set of problems, some of which Tyki has failed to foresee. For the first time, the Noah understands just how tricky it is being wanted by everybody; for the life of him, he cannot comprehend how Allen hasn't gone mad by now. Being hunted by both the Order and the Noah Clan is truly an unfair predicament, especially in her condition. How had she even managed to get along on her own for as long as she had? He doesn't like to think about it; right now, there are more pressing issues for him to deal with.

For one thing, they are running low on money. It hadn't been a problem for the first two weeks, but now that he's had time to think it over, Tyki realizes just how unequipped they are. He has some money left over, and so does Allen—from her gambling winnings, he thinks with a sour taste in his mouth—but if they don't get more soon it will be a problem. It doesn't sit right with him to make the white-haired girl gamble while she's heavily pregnant, and it makes his stomach turn to think that she is the only real source of income between the two of them. Since contact with his family has been completely cut off, he's all but destitute. His old job as a miner isn't really viable right now. It isn't the sort of job where a pregnant woman should hang around, and he isn't about to leave her on her own for more than a few hours.

At least for right now he can still afford food.

Tyki considers all of this as he stands in line at a grocer's apple cart; he is so deep in his thoughts that he doesn't even notice when the man presents him with a satchel.

"Will that be all, sir?" the merchant says as he hands Tyki a bag of apples from his cart.

He nods at the older man with a sly grin. "Yes. Here you are."

The clerk hurries to catch the coins Tyki flicks in his direction, but the Noah doesn't stick around to see if he succeeds. He's already walking off the scene, intent on getting back to the Ark as soon as possible so as to avoid a confrontation.

He halts in his tracks as soon as he turns around, and his blood runs cold when he realizes that no one's there.

"Allen?" he asks, turning his head every which way in search of the white-haired girl who had been standing there five minutes ago. She is nowhere to be found.

Immediately, he thinks the worst.

_Where is she? Did she just walk off while I wasn't looking? Damn her!_

It had been the young woman's idea to come to the outdoor marketplace at all; she had suggested that they find a place to buy more food, and Tyki had agreed with her proposal without much fuss. It would be less costly than eating out at a restaurant, not to mention the fact that eating anywhere in public could be potentially dangerous if they are spied by an enemy. Just this once, Tyki had agreed to her suggestion without a fight.

But now, he is beginning to regret his decision to trust her.

"You!" he exclaims, spinning around to point accusingly at the apple salesman.

"Sir?"

"The young woman who was standing behind me—did you see where she went?"

The unsuspecting man scratches his head, his brows drawn together in confusion. "Are you referring to the pregnant woman? The girl with the white hair? I thought she was your wife."

Tyki pointedly ignores the first half of his statement. "She is. Now did you see which direction she went? She gets lost quite easily, you see."

The clerk shrugs. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention."

Tyki tries not to let his ugly side take over in his panicked frustration. He doesn't have time to waste on belittling some poor old merchant.

He has to find Allen.

_Where could she have gone? Why would she wander off without saying anything to me? That fool…is she trying to get herself caught?_

Tyki plows through the throng of people, disregarding any notion of polite behavior as he seeks out a familiar head of white hair. Of course, in the back of his mind, he is also hesitant to find Allen. He wonders if her sudden departure had not been a snap decision, but rather a premeditated action. Did she leave him on purpose?

 _I shouldn't have let my guard down around her_ , he berates himself, cursing his innate tendency to trust the young woman. _I should have known that she would try something like this, especially after she escaped from me the first time. What else should I have expected from her? Even though she says she doesn't hate me, I should not have expected her to trust me. With the way she's been acting lately, why did I ever think it was a good idea to let her out of my sight? Why would she want to stay with me, someone who ruined her entire life? It only makes sense that she would try to leave. But even so_ …

Even so, with all of the baggage she surely has regarding him, and all of the bad blood between them…he still refuses to let losing her be an option—not while everyone and their mother is out looking for Allen Walker's head. If there were ever a time when the white-haired girl needed someone to protect her, it would be now—even if that same protector is the person who had hurt her the most.

Tyki doesn't apologize when he knocks a bag out of a young woman's hand, nor does he respond to her appalled cries as he continues his desperate search for Allen. Normally he would have more tact in a public space, but at the moment he couldn't care less.

 _She cannot have gone far_ , he reasons. _She isn't in any condition to be wandering around right now. Anywhere she goes, I will find her._

Funnily enough, he doesn't have to look far. After a few seconds of searching, he finds her. As soon as he exits the market square, Tyki sees a flash of white out of the corner of his eye.

He comes to his senses immediately, and stops to gather his wits before breaking into a run. His golden eyes fixate on the stock-still figure standing on the sidewalk across the street. She isn't facing his direction; she's just standing there, staring at the closed storefront before her.

 _What on earth is she doing?_ Before he stops to consider the fact that this situation is especially strange, Tyki is already in motion. He doesn't spare a moment to consider the consequences of his actions. He rushes over to her as fast as he can, not bothering to apologize as he walks into the incoming path of a carriage. The driver curses at him, but the Noah pointedly ignores him. He's lucky; on any other day, he would have simply killed the insolent man without sparing any concern.

As he comes up behind her, the young woman doesn't even turn to glance at him; he doubts that she notices his presence, as absorbed as she is by the storefront. He grabs her arm firmly before addressing her, squeezing her limb harder than usual in order to prevent her escape.

And, if he is being honest, it may also be partially due to his anger.

"What do you think you're doing, girl?" he hisses at her, her arm shaking in his grip. "Did you forget that we're wanted by both the Order and the other Noah? Why would you walk away without saying anything?"

Allen doesn't answer him for so long that Tyki wonders if he has frightened her; it wouldn't surprise him. Perhaps he had been too harsh, but even so, she should know better than to walk away from him without saying anything, especially in her condition.

"Allen?" he says, this time in a softer voice.

Without turning to look at him, she responds with, "You're hurting me."

Tyki jerks his hand away as though he has been burned, and his stomach sinks with renewed guilt. He doesn't apologize. "What are you doing?" he asks again, this time keeping his anger controlled.

When she doesn't answer, Tyki follows her gaze to the front of the store. When he sees the display in the windows, his eyes grow wide. It's a clothing store from what he can tell, with several fancy displays set up in the glass windows. One of them—the one that Allen is staring at so intently—is a smaller outfit, the smallest of all the others.

A baby's outfit, Tyki notices.

"Is this why you came here?" he asks.

Allen once again says nothing. As he continues to stare at the white-haired girl, he pales when he sees her eyes begin to tear up. They sparkle brightly in the scant sunlight, but refuse to fall from her silver orbs. Without saying a word, Tyki takes her hand in his, and she does not resist his advance. He pulls gently on her hand, leading her away from the store and in the direction of the nearest empty alleyway.

He tries not to glance at her face all the while.

* * *

Against his better judgment, he stares at her for longer than he should. He can't help it; he feels a magnetic pull of his eyes towards her nearly all the time, even when he knows she doesn't want him looking. She does, of course, have some moments of privacy, but for the most part they spend their days traveling in the Ark. At times, total silence will ring throughout the room, while at others forced small talk will predominate the already awkward atmosphere. It's not that they can't hold a conversation—it's that Allen adamantly refuses to. Tyki senses that it isn't quite her fault, though this doesn't do anything to relieve his frustration.

In any case, no matter how silent they are, he always watches her. This is an issue for many reasons, the greatest of which is that Tyki knows how disconcerting his stare can be, and he is especially susceptible to lapsing back into his commonplace disinterested expression while doing it—the face his Noah side usually wears. He finds after many separate occasions that Allen is particularly disturbed by this tendency; most likely it reminds her of all the time she had spent as his victim. He had probably looked at her in a similar way, as though he is a predator and she, his prey. This much he can't help, however; it's an old force of habit, and in no way does this mean he plans to take advantage of her again.

Tyki suspects that he will have a hard time convincing her of this, however. Perhaps she isn't even aware of her own reflexive fear, but even so he tries not to make her uncomfortable. But alas, aside from poking his own eyes out, he doesn't really know what to do to make himself stop.

Nothing he does works, and it's starting to bother him as well.

"Tyki?"

It must be something about her mood as of late. He has become increasingly paranoid about her doing something foolish; her stint at the market has solidified that concern. If he doesn't watch her closely, she could end up being taken hostage by the Noah again—or even worse, by the Order. He has to keep her safe.

It's his responsibility, after all that has happened between them.

"Tyki?"

He catches himself staring at her again, and at her mouth in particular. He is so intent in his action that the Noah hardly notices when her eyes meet his—at least, until she says his name a third time.

"Tyki?"

The increased worry in her tone is what ultimately grabs his attention, and he returns her gaze with concern of his own. "Is something wrong?"

She shakes her head at him, but Tyki can tell from her eyes that she is lying. She's still wary of him; perhaps she even fears him, though the white-haired girl would most likely deny such a claim. She has denied hating him, so it stands to reason that she would not be up front about her fear for him as well. No matter what she says, Tyki can still sense her true feelings.

One thing he knows is that, when you trust a person, you don't obsessively watch over their every move. In that sense, he reasons, neither of them trusts the other.

He will never admit that this fact makes his chest ache.

"Nothing is wrong," Allen tells him—again with that bold-faced lie. "But why…why do you stare at me like that?"

It's a simple question—or at least it should be—but for whatever reason Tyki cannot find the answer. He tries to—he searches high and low in the recesses of his mind, eager to answer her question as honestly as he is able.

Instead, all that comes out of his mouth is an uncertain speculation. "I don't know. If I were to answer you with the honest truth, then even I might not understand it."

Though he expects at the very least to be scoffed at, to his eternal shock, the young woman accepts his answer.

* * *

It's always the most tense when night falls, not that Tyki expects any different. The night brings all types of terror, rational or not, and Allen's is to be expected. As soon as the sun sets and the white-haired girl's eyelids begin to droop, she becomes suddenly far more wary of her surroundings. Even though she is no doubt exhausted from the day's trials—and her partial breakdown in the marketplace—she tries desperately to stay awake for as long as he does, and Tyki is aware by this point that she isn't on guard so that she can attack him in his sleep.

She is on guard because she worries that he will do so to _her_.

He decides to count his blessings while they still remain, and speculates that tonight will not be any different. His loss of temper earlier had probably freaked her out some, too. He can only imagine how little she wants him near her.

Allen is lying on the couch, her bloated abdomen making it much more difficult for her to get into a comfortable position. She continuously releases a drawn sigh, her fatigue and severe exhaustion blatant in every labored movement she makes. Tyki leans against the sofa by her feet, his eyes closed and willing himself to fall asleep at some point before the young woman begins to thrash.

However, when her fretful behavior doesn't go away after several minutes, he cracks an eye open. Even if she has a nightmare, she still always manages to fall asleep within a set time frame—usually fifteen minutes after going to bed. As far as he can tell, she hasn't slept at all since retiring to the couch. She isn't tossing and turning, but Tyki can clearly hear her uneven breaths emanating from the sofa, betraying her wakeful state.

_She must still be on edge from what happened earlier. If I try to ask what's wrong, she will most likely ignore me or become more agitated… For both of our sakes, it's best for me to not do anything. It will only make the situation worse…_

Though he is safe in the knowledge that he is right, Tyki still feels an extremely unhealthy urge to do something to relieve the young woman's obvious discomfort. Yet, when it comes right down to it, he is not her husband as the merchant from earlier had assumed. As far as emotional support goes, he unfortunately has a terrible track record of amplifying a situation rather than doing anything to relieve the tension. These thoughts are what ultimately keep him from getting up and approaching the white-haired girl restlessly stirring on the sofa.

She doesn't want his help. What she has made clear is that she wants space; Tyki is determined to give that to her.

His ears perk up when he hears Allen roll over again, and this time she actually sits up. He listens intently as she stands up and walks around the couch, only coming to a stop when she is standing right above him. He cracks open an eye slowly, and raises his brow at what he sees.

Allen is staring down at him with stony features, her hands hanging limp at her sides. Her white locks are a tangled mess around her face, and idly Tyki thinks that she looks nicer this way, when her hair and clothes are tousled. Just as well, her sleeping shirt hangs off of her shoulder in a way that anyone else—especially him, considering the circumstances—would have deemed highly inappropriate. Just the sight of it makes his eyes widen. Yet, the young woman makes no move to cover her partially bare shoulders or cleavage.

 _What is she doing?_ He feels as though he has been asking himself this question for the last few days, and he is no closer to receiving a satisfying answer. He then asks her out loud, but Allen responds with pinched silence and an unchanging stare. Asking if she is all right is redundant since Tyki already knows that the answer is, and will continue to be, an overwhelming _no_. No one could possibly be all right in her situation, so he sees no point in even asking. So instead of continuing to ask questions, he sits and waits in silence, pondering what the young woman is planning to do.

He is wholly unprepared for the answer, as it turns out. Before he can protest, Allen wordlessly kneels down so that she is on his eye level, and with no prior warning she plants a firm kiss on his lips. Tyki's eyes grow wide at her action, and on reflex he opens his mouth to protest.

Again, before he can attempt to dissuade her, the white-haired girl plunges her tongue into his mouth, placing her hands on either side of his face to prevent his escape. She covers his body with her own, pressing him up against the side of the sofa with unrelenting force.

"Allen—" He tries to protest once more, but he barely manages to get her name out of his mouth before she reclaims it with her own. She rolls her tongue against his in a way that makes his groin ache, and Tyki's resolve begins to waver ever so slightly.

 _I shouldn't let this go on. She clearly isn't in her right mind_. Yet even as he thinks this, Tyki is finding it extremely tempting to disregard. He isn't one to pass up opportunities, and this situation is no exception.

And so, he amazes even himself when, rather than mindlessly going along with Allen's actions, he manages to pull out of his lustful fog. He grabs the young woman's shoulders with both hands and pushes her away, forcing her to break the kiss. Her hands, however, remain attached to his face. The skin burns where she touches him, and he cannot bring himself to tear away. He has enough self-control to see that this situation is not right, that Allen is once again making a petty mistake based on fleeting emotions, but even he has his limits. In this scenario, with her practically throwing herself at him without explanation, he is dangerously close to crossing them. He doesn't want to repeat the same faux pas over and over.

"What are you doing?" the white-haired girl asks, and when he hears her voice suddenly Tyki feels as though he has been slapped in the face. Her tone is robotic, monotone and flat as the wind through a cave.

To be frank, it disturbs him. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question, girl? What's gotten into you? It's not like you to be so forward with me."

Allen appears to be hurt by his words, and he is willing to admit that he had been insensitive in his tone of voice. Implying that she is a whore had not been his intention. He considers apologizing, and though he knows that a few measly words will not solve their problems, it's at least something for her to chew on.

But instead, before he can seize the opportunity, the white-haired girl shocks him yet again. Her visage becomes strikingly tragic, and he bites his tongue as her silver eyes flood with tears; he even thinks that he can detect a hint of malice in her silver eyes. It shines brightly as she stares at him, and his heart beats hollowly under her penetrating gaze.

"I hate this," she says, so quietly that Tyki has to strain to hear her.

"What?"

"I hate this," she repeats, and this time she sounds so sad that it causes the pit in his stomach to enlarge tenfold. "I'm losing my mind, sitting here in complete silence in a room with you. We both are. I can tell just by looking at you that you feel it too. The longer we sit here, the more we fade away. I hate how messed up this situation is. I hate how weak I am, how I'm unable to protect myself or even my own child. I hate how betrayed I feel, even though I know how selfish it is to feel that way. And…I hate how you look at me like that. The way you're looking at me now. Like you pity me. You're afraid to touch me because you think I'll shatter again, but then you turn around and lose your temper like earlier. You keep switching sides, and it confuses the hell out of me. Tyki…if you really feel guilty for everything that you've done, then prove it."

He doesn't know what to say. Every word is a sharpened knife, deadly and itching to pierce his heart. "How?"

"Let me do what I want. If I don't do something, I'll go insane."

Though Tyki is certain that this is her intention, he still feels guilty from her words. They effectively shatter his resolve to stay away, and instead make him feel as though knives have punctured his chest when he tries to reject her. And, because he is well aware that she will not have it any other way, he does as she says.

The Noah of Pleasure does not object when Allen meticulously slides his dress shirt off of his shoulders and throws it to the side, nor does he do anything to stop her when she presses her mouth to his neck. He sighs in a low voice and allows her to do as she pleases; at first he is uncertain if she even wants him to reciprocate.

He decides then that the answer is yes—he can't expect her to do all the work in her condition, not to mention that he isn't one to be submissive—and proceeds to initiate his own advances. He gently pushes her away from him, but before she can voice her protest he attaches his lips to her throat. He peppers kisses all along her neck, gradually pushing aside her overly large shirt in order to reveal her bare shoulders more fully. Goose bumps emerge on her flesh, and Tyki traces the outline of her collarbones with his tongue in a way that elicits shallow breaths from the young woman.

Much of Allen's previous violence has diminished, and now she allows herself to be fondled without complaint. She leans her forehead against his bare shoulder as his mouth continues to descend, and he shivers as spikes of warmth shoot down his spine. Finally he succeeds in ridding the white-haired girl of her shirt, and pulls if off only to discard it on the floor. He runs a finger along her sternum, but pointedly avoids her breasts; he knows from experience how sensitive they had been as of late. In truth, he wants to wait until she gives him permission before he does anything.

As it turns out, Allen is having none of that. Tyki hisses in pain when he feels her bite down harshly on his neck, and he is certain that she draws blood. At the same time it causes him pain, it also elicits pleasure.

"Don't do that," the young woman whispers into his ear. "You have to touch me."

Her voice alone causes his member to stiffen painfully.

"That's the rule," she continues. "You have to do what I want."

Beneath the thick layer of forceful domination that laces her tone, Tyki can hear the tragedy in it. She's wearing a mask, just like always; he can tell. It's a mask of seductive prowess, much like the one he used to wear. But it's different, he notices. It sounds as though it's hurting her to maintain this façade, whereas he had managed to cope with his. Perhaps he should—

But then she finishes removing the last of their clothes, and when she sinks down onto him and envelops him into her warmth, this thought slips his mind. Instead of thinking about the consequences, he focuses all of his attention on her, in the here and now. He's very good at distancing himself, after all.

Allen's face brings him immense pleasure as well. The white-haired girl's face is flushed, and her locks are plastered to her forehead with sweat. She slides against him with every thrust, practically bouncing on his lap as she rides him.

"You're very agile right now," he mutters, amazed at how she is able to maneuver herself in such a position. He reminds himself that he shouldn't underestimate her. He slides his hands downward, caressing her bare sides as he thrusts into her; he meets her hips with well-timed thrusts and breathes her in, burying his face in her neck and nipping gently at the skin he finds there. Allen groans against his ear, and he can feel himself tightening inside of her.

"Harder," she demands, her voice a gravelly whine. He tries to heed her request, but it proves difficult to manage. He doesn't want to hurt her by being too rough as he had before, but the way her walls slide against him, the way her gasping lips beckon him closer, makes him want to do as she says.

Tyki digs his fingers into her hips, and Allen groans in what sounds to him like simultaneous pleasure and pain—giving her both is his specialty, after all. He pounds into her mercilessly, though he does show some degree of restraint; all at once he feels both elated and disgusted with himself. He doesn't want this; he doesn't want to be the same person he once was, the person who hurt her with no regard for her own feelings.

But somehow, he keeps getting pulled back to his old ways, to his darkest tendencies—and all because of her. In reality, though, he knows it's his own fault.

It's too much, all of it, and as he feels his climax start to spread throughout his body, starting in his groin and moving all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. Tyki finds himself staring into her eyes, and marvels at the unexpected sight. They are bright and silver, lit up with excitement and what he knows is lust. For a brief moment he feels all right, as though he had merely been overthinking the situation and her perilous mental state.

But then that short spark of satisfaction vanishes, and as the white-haired girl comes down from her peak the depressive cloud returns to her orbs. The light fades, and once more Tyki finds himself staring into the eyes of a person whose soul had been mangled beyond repair, manipulated and toyed with by both friend and foe.

"I hate this," Allen says again, and the perceptible shaking of her voice causes his heart to lurch in his chest.

"…So do I," he replies.


	34. A Twist of Fate

Before she even opens her eyes, she knows that he is watching her. If there's one thing Tyki doesn't have, it's probably discretion—at least when it comes to her. She can feel his golden orbs on her skin, practically boring into her flesh as she rests (somewhat peacefully) on the couch. The stark intensity of his gaze should bother her more than it does, and it had in the beginning.

Humans can grow accustomed to anything, however, and the predatory stare of a Noah is no exception. To her, this is just his usual behavior. This constant reminder is still underlain by a hint of unease, but it is also familiar as well. He's always watching her now, as though he is wary that she will disappear if he glances away.

Nothing in her life is dynamic anymore. This is what it has become—an unending journey across the world, accompanied by the very man who had started the entire cycle. Wait—that's not right. It probably would have ended up this way regardless. Tyki didn't make her a Noah, after all. He only exacerbated the inevitable; that being said, he still holds some degree of blame for her predicament.

But on some level, Allen knows that this is just as much her fault. Her behavior as of late is more than a little confusing, even to herself. Perhaps if she had taken a wiser course of action from the beginning, this could have been avoided. Perhaps, if she had only gotten rid of the baby, her life wouldn't be such a mess. She could have stayed at the Order, and right now she wouldn't have to be worrying about the fate of an unborn child.

But it's too late for regrets, and now she has to deal with the consequences of her mistake. This being the case, if even she is incapable of understanding herself and her choices, then how can she reasonably expect Tyki to? He's probably just as lost and confused—if not more so—than she is. His obvious misery should be a cold comfort, a satisfying display of karma. Instead, all it does is make her more miserable in turn. His confusion begets more confusion on her part.

In spite of this, Allen knows that it's a moot point, anyway. He doesn't have to understand her; she doubts that anyone can do that. All the Noah of Pleasure has to do is let her be and not ask any questions. And, of course, he also has to do as she says. For the past few weeks, that's what he has been doing.

To the young woman, sex is an effective way of taking her mind off of things. It allows her to have a brief moment of reprieve from the terrors that lurk just beyond the dark. While she is entangled with him, her problems seem worlds away; in this way, Tyki can provide a twisted form of comfort to her.

But just as most things are, this comfort is only temporary. Allen knows that sleeping with the Noah provides a brief respite, but it is still leagues better than the constant silence that otherwise plagues her. It is better than having nothing to do but be miserable and lie in wait for whatever it is fate has in store for them and their unborn child. And, the white-haired girl thinks with discontent, it is far better than sitting in Tyki's silent company, knowing that he wants to say something but that he is holding himself back on her account.

 _Just as he should_ , she thinks harshly. _I don't think I can handle him showing me any more concern than he already does. It's bad enough that he stares at me with such pity in his eyes, like I'm some sort of delicate china doll. My mind might be wasting away out of stress and boredom, but I'm not going to break again. I refuse to lie down and wait for death. But he…he's intent on treating me like I am, like if he says one wrong word I'll collapse and retreat into myself like before. So I'm more emotional than I was before—that can be easily explained by the pregnancy. I'm not…_

_…I'm not going to disappear._

And, with this in mind, Allen concludes that she does not want Tyki to treat her with any sort of gentleness. She doesn't want him to show concern for her wellbeing, at least not openly. Every time he had, she had only become more dejected, more confused. What she wants is for him to comply with her wishes—to allow _her_ to use _him_ for once. She wants him—no, not to understand her pain, but to cause him turmoil when she tries to relieve it. This has helped her cope in her own way, though the young woman suspects that it will only end up doing more damage to her emotional state in the long run. She remembers what she had done with Kanda, and how it had taken a toll on them both. She doesn't want to cause the samurai pain, nor does she want to take advantage of him. But as for Tyki…she thinks she can overlook the pain she causes him.

So, even with the bleak future that lies ahead, Allen much prefers Tyki's cold apathy to his newfound kindness. Seeing him act this way, as though she means something to him…it hurts more than she had ever imagined. It makes her feel conflicted in her resolve, for how can a man whom she has declared an enemy treat her with such care? He has his moments of unchecked anger and frustration, like that day at the market, but he always manages to quell them before he can do her any real harm. He wouldn't have done such a thing before, when they had been nothing to each other but captive and captor.

And, more than anything else, it makes her feel guilty—because, when she sees the softness in his golden eyes, and the increasingly frequent flashes of humanity and empathy, he reminds her not of a cruel Noah, but of a compassionate human.

It reminds her of Kanda, and of how he had looked at her with something that was not quite love, but close to it.

And then she feels guilty for taking advantage of him, and for rejecting his obvious attempts at winning—perhaps not her forgiveness, but at least her favor. This frustrates her to no end.

 _Since when did I become the bad guy_?

She hates this feeling, of simultaneously being both the aggressor and the victim. On some level, it makes her feel as though she is worthy of her misery. She wants it to go away, even if it hurts someone else to do so. And what other way is there to get rid of it other than by doing the exact same thing she always resorts to in times of crisis—the solution always being Tyki.

How else is she supposed to cope? Doing nothing only allows the bad memories to come rushing in; at least this way she doesn't have to think about them, at least for a little while. As she already knows, it's only temporary—but right now, "temporary" is the only thing about her life that holds any certainty. She might as well take advantage of it; this is what she believes on the surface. Beneath the layer of denial and cowardice, Allen knows that it's all a ruse.

She's always been adept at ignoring the truth, however; it explains why she still feels devoted to the Order, even though she knows now how much they regard her as one of their own—not enough to listen to her side of the story, apparently.

So the white-haired girl separates herself from the couch, feeling the vertigo almost as soon as she drags her body upright, and determinedly makes her way over to Tyki. He's sitting on the piano bench, and his golden eyes widen when he sees that she's heading towards him.

_Does he know what I want? He must, by now. We've become very repetitive, haven't we?_

This is their usual routine, the young woman thinks. If nothing else, at least she can count on it. She will come to him, never the other way around, and often without saying a word—on the few occasions she does speak, it is usually something deprecating either to herself or him. Then, she proceeds to use him for her own desires.

_Can I even call it desire? It makes me sick to think about it…about what kind of person I've become…I suppose it's more accurate to call it release._

Either way, she's well aware that what they're doing is not normal. It's not healthy, and Allen is certain that Tyki knows this as well. Even so, he never objects, at least not once they reach a certain point in their foreplay. It seems that his self-control only lasts for a brief period. She cannot begrudge him this because it's what she had been counting on to get her way. She can't expect him to be perfect in his resolve; even she is wavering, and she's supposed to be a noble, God-fearing exorcist. On the other hand, the Noah of Pleasure has a convenient excuse for his lack of control. If anything, he has stayed truer to his values than she has.

The young woman thinks that it says much about her own desperation that she is so impatient when it comes to matters of a sexual nature. It's increasingly obvious to her that she is unhinged; perhaps her sanity is beginning to unravel once again. Maybe it had never stopped its slow descent in the first place. She's okay with this, though; she can put up with it for however long is necessary. Everything will turn out the way it has to.

In the meantime, she will try to forget.

Allen doesn't notice anything amiss as she approaches Tyki. She sits down beside him, snaking her arms around his neck so as to bring his face closer to hers. His posture is at first stiff and hesitant, but after a few seconds he gives in to her touch. The man even reciprocates, allowing his hands to drag themselves up her sides and elicit a shudder from her.

It's always like this. No matter how badly he feels afterwards, he will always give in in the end; this will always be his greatest weakness.

The white-haired girl doesn't object when he snakes his tongue into her mouth, and in fact she welcomes it. She pushes back against him with increased enthusiasm, and she tightens her grip as her hands slide down his clothed back. She leaves trails of nail indents in her wake, pulling down the already loosened dress shirt as she does so.

While Tyki begins to suck on her earlobe, eliciting a rapid intake of breath from the young woman, she reaches over to her own shirt. Allen partially undoes the garment, exposing her pale chest in the process. She then grabs ahold of one of his wrists, dragging his lax hand over to her revealed skin. His fingers slip beneath the cloth, sending the butterflies in her stomach afloat.

But then something changes. Tyki halts in his movements, his mouth stiffening against hers.

_What's going on with him? Did something happen?_

Whatever's going on, Allen knows that it isn't normal. Tyki always shows some degree of hesitation, but recently his qualms seem to have all but vanished. He doesn't object to her advances with the same resolve as before, though it's still obvious that he is put off by their activities. But even so, with all of his conflict surrounding their situation, it's unusual for the golden-eyed man to merely stop moving while they are together. Is he overly nervous? Or have his doubts finally gotten to him?

"What are you doing?" she asks breathlessly, her mouth hovering over his ear. She can feel him shudder against her, but he doesn't give in to her as she had expected him to. "Why did you stop?"

Instead of answering her, he does something that the young woman would have never expected from him.

He completely cuts her off; as Allen watches with shell-shocked eyes, Tyki silently disentangles himself from her. He breaks off all contact, but not before he re-buttons her shirt and straightens out his own clothing to a degree. After that, he merely gets up from the bench and saunters away, leaving the young woman to sit in absolute confusion.

As the white-haired girl continues to stare at him, he begins to put on his shoes. "What…" she mumbles. It seems like forever before she is finally able to get the words out, but when she does, she instantly regrets saying them. "What are you doing?" she says again, inwardly cursing her repetitive words. She probably sounds far dumber than she feels, though that in itself would be a miracle. Allen doesn't believe that there is much that can top how humiliated she feels right now. Her insecurity is plain in her voice, and it only makes her want to hide her face from the Noah standing before her.

Tyki's own reply doesn't make her feel any better. "We should go get more food," he tells her, his tone completely void of any emotion. "I don't want to bring you with me if I can avoid it, but I also refuse to leave you here by yourself. I won't make that mistake again."

Allen chooses to ignore the latter half of his statement. "Why aren't you answering me, Tyki? What's wrong with you? To just stop like that, in the middle of… I don't understand. Why won't you…" The young woman trails off; as it turns out, she lacks the nerve to complete her question. In doing so, she knows that she also lacks the nerve to be honest with herself. Finishing her question, she thinks, would only make her sound like a wanton whore. Not only does such an accusation—coming from herself, no less—sting, but she also worries that it might be partially true. There are many who would say that she already is a whore, a traitor, a harlot, but Allen doesn't feel like one. She doesn't want to believe that's what she is, and she doesn't feel like facing that sort of humiliation in front of Tyki. Not factoring in everything he has done to her, it would be far too degrading. At least when she comes onto him, there is some degree of control. But this…this is too much. It feels as though all the control she has tried to cultivate over the past few weeks is rapidly falling from her grip.

And as it turns out, to make matters worse, Tyki finishes her question for her. "Why won't I have sex with you," he says, his voice lacking any sort of inflection. "Is that what you were going to say?"

Her silence is apparently answer enough for the Noah. "You never had a problem with it before," she finally whispers, avoiding all eye contact with him. "You always used me. From the very beginning, I was just a toy to you. I know…I know things are different now, but it's not like I'm forcing myself on you or anything. I might be using you, but…that's not all it is. I need _something_ , Tyki. I need something that makes me feel like everything will be okay, even if it's only temporary. If sex does that, then that's what I'll do. Why is it suddenly wrong?"

Allen doesn't look at him, but it's blatant that her words have gotten to him. _Who am I kidding? He probably just thinks I've lost my mind. Either that, or he's gotten bored of me already. I wouldn't even be surprised if he thought consensual sex wasn't exciting enough for him. Why else would he have spent so much time forcing himself on me?_ Maybe thinking such a thing isn't fair, given how much she knows Tyki has changed—she still isn't certain how dominant Joyd's personality had been back then—but at the moment the white-haired girl cannot bring herself to care. She feels degraded, used, like she's nothing more than trash, and all because he—

"It was always wrong," he says, his voice softer than before.

"W-What?" _What's he talking about now?_

"What we did…what _I_ did. It was wrong from the very beginning. I should never have hurt you the first time. It was selfish, and evil…and, even worse, I should have never let you try to use me to forget your pain. I felt guilty. I thought I owed you something, and I figured that this was my payment…but I realize now how foolish that is. All I've done is hurt you more."

"…You're wrong."

Tyki shakes his head, his golden eyes soft. "No, I'm not. Look at you, girl. Even my rejection, the rejection of the same Noah who tormented you, is painful to you now. It shouldn't be—you should want to stay far away from me. But I've allowed you to become too dependent on me, like an opium addict and his pipe."

"What are you saying?" Allen asks, hoping fervently for an answer, but she never receives one.

Instead, Tyki turns around, straightens his clothes as he prepares to leave, and addresses her one more time. "You should get ready," he says. "I want to be back here before noon."

* * *

"I feel so useless, just being here and not able to do a thing to help her."

"We all feel that way, Lena. Don't get so down about it. Being depressed won't help her. Besides, we know Allen-chan's not dead yet, right? That means she's still fighting. Right, Yuu?"

"Don't call me that," he growls, once again feeling like he's one poorly timed statement away from ripping the Bookman's hair out. It would probably be therapeutic for him to do it, but he doesn't want to get in any more trouble. Cross's warning hadn't done much to help his morale; nothing that the red-haired General had said ever turned out to be a good thing, so he isn't going to screw himself over by being optimistic.

He'd learned his lesson a long time ago.

Before the idiot has time to verbally retaliate, Kanda and Lenalee are nearly blown off their feet by someone making a mad dash through the hallway. Unfortunately for Lavi, he actually does get blown off his feet; Reever crashes into him at full speed as they turn a corner, and both Lenalee and Kanda watch with wide eyes as the pair topples to the floor.

"Oof!" the redhead mutters in discomfort; from Kanda's point of view, it looks as though the scientist has landed on his ribs. "What the—?"

"Reever?" the Chinese girl says, shock palpable in her voice. "What are you doing running like that? Is there something wrong?"

"It's—" Reever groans as he pushes himself off of Lavi, leaving the future Bookman stunned on the floor. "It's Komui. He called me just now—he said that he's detecting a disturbance around Headquarters, similar to the one that appeared when the Ark invaded last time."

Kanda's hand finds Mugen's hilt as a sinking feeling forms in the pit of his stomach.

This doesn't feel right. There's something wrong; he can tell. There is a sickening cloud of dread hanging over them…

"You don't mean…" Lavi trails off as he sees the stricken expression on Reever's face.

"I have to go and help him. Maybe if we—" The scientist's voice is drowned out by the warning sirens that start to blare out of the loudspeakers. Lenalee clasps her hands over her ears, and then lowers them as a familiar monotone begins to echo throughout the hallway.

" _Attention. There has been a breach in the lowest level. It appears that a hostile entity has suddenly materialized inside HQ. All personnel who cannot fight or defend are being ordered to evacuate. All available exorcists should report to_ —"

A booming noise cuts off the speaker, and the ground beneath them begins to shake.

"What the hell is going on?" Kanda growls.

" _Attention. The unknown entity has completely demolished the ceiling on the first level, and it now appears to be moving upwards_ —"

"It could be Allen-chan," Lenalee whispers, her voice uncertain. Even she doesn't sound as though she believes her words.

"I don't know," Lavi says. "Something tells me that it's more nefarious than her."

Just as the redhead finishes his sentence, the very floor beneath them shakes viciously. A deep rumble issues from below their feet, and then, seemingly without warning, the floor in front of them explodes outward. Kanda tries to shield himself as rubble is ejected from the ground, and the others all do the same.

But it's no use. What appears before them in the smoky aftermath is far worse.

Two Noah emerge from the rubble, a man and a small girl. And, to make matters more confusing, Kanda cannot shake the feeling—and the horrific anger accompanying it—that the man looks very familiar.

* * *

It's driving her mad.

She knows it is, and no matter what she glances at Allen cannot shake off the feeling of impending doom. The emotion encompasses her like a persistent fog, enshrouding her and smothering her as a heavy blanket. She can feel the questions probing at the edge of her mind, bubbling up in her throat as she bites her tongue in an ill attempt to ward them off.

And she knows that Tyki can tell; if nothing else, he can sense her struggle. He's more perceptive than he's acting. His stiff posture and grim expression as he walks beside her is proof enough. For a mere instant, Allen muses on the symbolism of this moment. It's surreal how apt they are at communicating without words, even if said communication only amplifies their emotional conflict. Over the time they have spent together, they have clearly become accustomed to each other's methods of coping, and right now the white-haired girl can tell that she and Tyki are using all of their combined self-control to avoid bursting into stress-fueled meltdowns. She has already experienced several, and Allen doesn't savor the thought of experiencing another.

She wants to get away. She has to get away.

Out of the corner of her eye, the young woman spots it: an old, run-down building, but one that is quite obviously a gambling house. She can tell from the men sitting outside, the pair of dice that's being rolled within their gathered circle. Cigarette smoke filters out through the windows, all of which are shielded from the outside by thick shutters.

Even if she can't get in, it's worth a shot.

"Tyki," she begins, and his facial muscles twitch, "there's a gambling house over there. We might be able to get some more money if we both participate. We won't have to start stealing. If we can only—"

"No."

His reply is so short and curt that it leaves the young woman momentarily stupefied. She lags behind for barely a moment, but it's enough to make her ankles hiss in pain as she tries to catch up to him.

"Why not?" she asks, outraged by his authoritarian tone. "We need money—either that or we have to start stealing. You always distract me whenever I bring up the topic. Why won't you just let me play cards? Or you can at least do it yourself, if you prefer."

Tyki's fists clench at his sides, and the glance he sends her makes her blood run cold. His glare vanishes an instant later, and is instead replaced by a surprised expression that even makes the white-haired girl ache in sympathy. She had forgotten that he, too, is under a great deal of stress; her presence probably isn't helping. "Because…"

Allen raises a brow. "Because what? You…you need to stop being so secretive. First you ignore me—even worse, you brush me off—and now you're refusing to let me offer help. We have to work together, Tyki. You—you need me." She forces out the latter part, her mouth suddenly feeling as though it's full of cotton. "Why won't you tell me anything?"

"…Because it's too dangerous," the Noah concludes.

"What do you mean?"

Tyki sighs. "We're in constant danger, girl. Anything we do, even if it isn't important, could allow the others—the Order or the Noah Clan—to find us. Any attention we attract could be disastrous, not to mention the types of lowlifes you find in a gambling house could be inconvenient nuisances. I refuse to put either of us in that position. We can steal if we have to, but we must be discreet."

 _At least that's one honest answer._ "I understand…but we don't exactly have the luxury of being picky about our options. If we have to, we're going to put ourselves in danger. And anyway, that doesn't explain what you did earlier."

"…"

Allen can feel the nausea pressing at her as she steels up her nerves. "Aren't you going to answer me?"

"…"

For a moment, the white-haired girl sees red. "How could you do that to me?" she implores him, the back of her eyes burning with incensed humiliation. She tries to push down the lump in her throat. "After everything you've done, all I wanted was to choose for myself what my body would be used for. I wanted to have control. I know you understand what that's like—wanting to have control over yourself, and feeling like you don't…like nothing that happens to you is actually your choice."

"You _can_ ," Tyki hisses at her under his breath.

"No, I _can't_ ," Allen practically yells, her voice shaking. She thanks her lucky stars that the street they're on is fairly empty, otherwise they would be at risk for getting caught disturbing the peace. "Don't you understand? I _can't_ choose. Look at me—does this look like something I chose?" The young woman gestures to her belly, her hands caressing the soft skin with both a frustrated and protective stance. "I didn't want this," she whispers sadly. "I didn't want it. But now it's too late to do anything about it, and _I_ have to deal with the consequences. You can talk about _us_ and _we_ all you want, but when it comes down to it you aren't the one carrying the enemy's child. I know…I know you're different now. I can tell just by looking at you. Something's changed, probably for the better. But…that doesn't mean that everything you did to me never happened. I still have to deal with the memories every day. And now, when I finally ask for you to do something in return, something that I've chosen, you reject me. Sex is the only thing left for me right now—the only thing that makes me feel like I have control over my body. It's a distraction—a temporary one, but still a distraction. Why can't you understand that?"

Allen waits on pins and needles for him to respond, to grace her with more of his carefully constructed euphemisms and lies—about how sex is not the same as other, more socially acceptable distractions, about how her point of view is unfounded and even discredited due to her mental state. Even if he doesn't truly believe them, the excuses hurt no less than they would if he were being honest. She braces herself to hear them.

"I don't wish to hurt you anymore."

Tyki speaks so softly that the young woman at first believes he had not said anything at all; it is only when she turns to him and sees the anguish on his face—which, she recalls, is for once in human form—that she realizes she had not been hallucinating.

"What—" Allen is cut off midsentence by the enthusiasm of the golem hiding in her clothes; Timcanpy bursts out from the collar of her shirt, his wings flapping rapidly as he flutters around the white-haired girl's head. "What the—? Timcanpy, what's going on? Why are you acting so crazy?"

As she watches with dumbstruck eyes, the golden golem opens his proportionally large mouth and displays his multiple pointy teeth. It's almost as if he is grinning at her, but Allen can distinguish the telltale vibrations of his body anywhere.

"A call?" she mutters under her breath. _This is odd. No one from the Order has contacted me for weeks. What's the point in calling someone who's been declared a fugitive? Even more importantly, should I answer it? As far as I know, it's not as though they would be able to track me. Master said that Tim was modified to erase any incriminating evidence. He wouldn't have let him come with me if he could be traced. It couldn't be Master calling, could it? I have a hard time believing that Leverrier would let him, unless he was being monitored…_ "Let them through, Tim." If the call _is_ being monitored, she'll just have to be careful.

"What are you doing?" Tyki protests from beside her; she pointedly ignores him.

The golem eagerly obliges her request, and Allen listens intently as the familiar crackling background noise of a recording plays from his small body. Incoherent muttering can be heard from the other side, and both Allen and Tyki have to strain their ears to make anything out; something tells the young woman that this is intentional.

" _Go on_ ," she hears an exasperated voice say; it sounds hauntingly familiar. " _She's already answered. There is no doubt that she is listening_."

" _Go to hell_ ," another voice answers.

Allen's blood freezes when she recognizes whom it belongs to. _It can't be…how could this have happened? It's me they want! Why would they…?_

But of course, she realizes, it makes perfect sense. What better way is there for them to draw her out?

The young woman feels her stomach drop to her feet as the unmistakable voice of Kanda Yuu speaks again, and the guilt she had been smothering surges to the forefront of her mind.

" _Do you really think I'll play along with your plan, Noah_?" he hisses. The white-haired girl can practically see his heated glare as if she were present in the room with them. " _If so, you've got another thing coming_."

" _Is that so?_ " the Noah replies. " _I must commend you for your bravery, Exorcist. It's not often I meet someone with as much fiery defiance as you."_

_"Fuck off."_

The insult doesn't appear to perturb the Noah in the slightest. _"However, I'm certain you'll have a different attitude if we threaten one of your friends. What about that other girl? The cute little Asian? She seems to be someone fairly close to you. I can tell by the look in your eyes. You don't want her to get hurt, do you?"_

 _Lenalee_. Tears of hideous wrath and worry build up in her eyes as she pictures her friend's face. She can only imagine the types of horrors the Noah Clan can cook up for her, and none of them involve any sort of mercy. _Anyone but her. Anyone but them…leave my friends alone!_

"Stop!" the white-haired girl yells. At that, the two men on the other side go momentarily silent.

" _Ah, so she finally answers_!" the Noah exclaims. " _I was starting to worry about you, Allen Walker."_

" _Hang up_!" Kanda commands her. " _End the goddamn call_!"

"It's fine," she whispers into the golem. "It's okay. I'll talk…just don't hurt them, okay?"

" _That's fine by me_ ," the Noah agrees. " _Cooperating is much easier for all of us._ " The lilt of his voice is teasing—and so very familiar.

"Sheril…" Tyki growls under his breath. "I should have known he would try something like this."

" _I was wondering when you would finally decide to grace us with your words_ ," Sheril continues, only this time, knowing who he is, his voice fills Allen with unimaginable anger. " _If nothing else, you are unceasingly loyal to your friends_."

The young woman clenches her fists and bites down on the inside of her cheek to avoid cursing the Noah of Desire to the darkest depths of hell. Losing her temper won't get her anywhere, no matter how much she wants to tear Sheril apart. Figuring out his endgame takes precedence over relieving her anger. "Sheril…what do you think you're doing?" Her tone is cold and calculated, full of enough venom to poison a rattlesnake.

" _You sound so angry_ ," the buoyant man observes in a curious voice. _"I haven't heard you this way before, but I'm not complaining. In fact, I must say that it's a nice change. Fear not, young one. I don't wish to hurt your dear friends for no reason, but let's not forget all the trouble you've caused me as of late. The Earl is quite stirred up over my brother's departure, and I must admit that I'm devastated as well."_

"What do you want?"

_"All I want, young lady, is to see your pretty face again. In the meantime, Road and I have taken the Order hostage. It was quite a chore, actually; we had to enlist help from the other members of the Noah Clan as well. In any case, we will wait patiently here for your arrival. I had hoped that using your friends as bait would incentivize you to return here quickly. I figured that if one of them were to implore you for assistance, it would be even more effective. Unfortunately this man doesn't want to cooperate, but it should still be enough for you. This is your last chance to ask for help, samurai—have you had a change of heart?"_

_"Don't listen to him, Moyashi—"_ Kanda's voice becomes muffled, and Allen's heart suffers another crack for each one of his stifled cries.

 _Kanda…Lenalee…Lavi…Komui…and all the others. They're all in danger because of me. Why does this keep happening? I keep putting everyone I care about in danger, even when I stay away from them…_ "This is all my fault," the white-haired girl says breathlessly. "I'm so, _so_ sorry. I got you all mixed up in this. But…I'm going to make it right, Kanda. Don't worry."

" _Strong words,"_ Sheril enthusiastically observes. _"That's exactly what I like to hear. I can only hope that means you'll be coming back here to help them—sorry about the mess in advance, by the way. It pained my heart to see such lovely architecture being ruined. Anyway, you needn't fret about the safety of your friends, my dear. I assure you that neither Road nor I will harm them in your absence. In all honesty, I would rather not have to kill them. Well, goodbye for now, I suppose—and I look forward to seeing you soon."_

 _Click._ Timcanpy's jaws slide shut with finality, and the pair are left standing in a vacuum of silence on the vacant sidewalk.

Allen's heart aches in her chest; the pain blossoms to unbearable proportions as she tries to process what has just happened. She looks eerily calm on the outside, while on the inside she is a roiling tempest of emotion.

"What a fool."

The white-haired girl barely hears Tyki's words. She blinks dumbly once, then twice, and without responding to his observation she turns and walks away.

She doesn't think that she's capable of finding the proper words to say goodbye.

She heads for the nearest alleyway, at least mindful enough to not attract unwanted attention from passersby. Right after she steps inside, concealing herself from prying eyes, she feels a hand wrap around her forearm—not enough to bruise, but enough to make her stop in her tracks.

"Where are you going?" Tyki asks curiously. "Don't tell me you…" Realization of her intentions seems to dawn on him. Sighing sadly, Allen decides to be honest—even if it pains both of them.

"I have to go," she says. "You heard what he said. They're my friends. After everything I've put them through—especially Kanda—saving them is the least I can do."

His grip tightens at the mention of the samurai's name. "You must be joking," he gasps. "You aren't seriously considering facing the Earl and the Noah in your state, are you? You wouldn't last a second, girl."

Allen closes her eyes, unwilling to admit such a thing even if she feels he's right. It hurts her to admit it, but that's exactly what she's doing. Never before has a situation felt so unfair; being forced to choose between the safety of her unborn child and the lives of her friends is a decision she never thought she would have to make. Yet here she is, doing exactly that—and the young woman knows beyond a shadow of a doubt what she will choose.

"I have to," she whispers, refusing to turn around and face the Noah. "After what I did…after running away like that…I can't just forget about them, even if I have other priorities now. I've known them far longer than the child I'm carrying. It wouldn't be just for me to leave them all alone. That's not what an exorcist is supposed to do."

Tyki's frustration is obvious in how his hand shakes against her frame. "That's your excuse?" he snaps. "You still feel indebted to the Order, even after all that they've done to you?"

"You think you're one to talk?" Allen shoots back, barely glancing at him over her shoulder.

"No. That isn't my point. I'm not the one asking you to risk your life to save someone else. I'm talking about _you_. What about _you_?"

"What _about_ me?"

"What about your safety?" Tyki snaps, his anger finally piercing her apathetic skin. "Do you really think your exorcist friends would want you to risk yourself for their sake? Going back there would only be playing right into Sheril's hands. If there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that my brother is extremely well versed in holding grudges. I refuse to let you make such a rash decision."

That does it; Allen spins around to glare daggers at Tyki's surprised face. Her breath comes in ragged pants, and her silver eyes are filled with affronted disbelief. She had put up with his insistence on controlling her every movement up until now, but the game has changed; now, it isn't only her and her child's lives that are at stake.

"It's not your decision," she hisses. "It's _mine_. I control the Ark, and I can damn well use it when I want to. What makes you of all people think that you have the right to decide what I do? What makes you think that you can look out for my wellbeing?" Allen can't shake the feeling that her words contradict her past actions, but they seem to have the intended effect nonetheless. Tyki stares at her with a clenched jaw, and his grip on her arm becomes nearly unbearable.

"It should be obvious by this point," he says under his breath, more to himself than to the woman standing in front of him.

"Well, it isn't," she answers anyway. "Care to enlighten me?"

"It's because I care for you," he says softly, the words sounding as though they grate against his throat. "Why else would I bother trying to save you? Why else would I be trying so hard to gain favor with you? Did you really think that I was doing all of this as some sort of ploy?"

"You're selfish. I don't doubt that you would do anything if it served your purpose," Allen lies. It's only a partial lie, but a lie regardless.

"That may be true, but that isn't all I am. I'm human just like you, girl, and humans are susceptible to falling prey to all types of emotion—including love."

His sentence stops the white-haired girl short. _Love? Did he just say…love? No_. Allen thinks that she must have heard him wrong. _What is he saying? He can't love me—not after all he did! That's not love; that's possession!_

 _But he's changed_ , a tiny voice in the back of her head reminds her. _You've seen it, haven't you? You know that he isn't lying. Deep down, you can feel it._

_Not enough. It doesn't matter; it isn't possible. He can't love me._

_But isn't it? You remember all of the times he could have hurt you and chose not to. The times he took care of you, despite the fact that it put him in danger and separated him from his family. He gave up everything. Even when you suffered by throwing yourself at him, you knew you were making him feel guilty. He refused you earlier; he doesn't want to hurt you. He's said it himself. You can't deny that_.

_There has to be a reason—another explanation for his behavior. I can't believe it._

But there's a small part of her, in spite of her virulent protests, that does believe his words—not only that, but it _wants_ to.

And this, the white-haired girl cannot accept.

" _No_!" she exclaims, jerking her arm out of Tyki's grasp. He tries to grab ahold of her again, but she evades his flailing arms, backing herself further into the alley. He follows her, his face a mask of concern.

"Allen—"

"Don't touch me!" she hisses. "You're a liar. You always have been. What makes you so worthy of my trust? You can't love me." She's fully aware that she is babbling, but cannot bring herself to form rational sentences.

The instant his hand touches her wrist again, the young woman snaps.

" _Stop_!"

Tyki staggers backwards from the force of her Innocence, the bright light nearly blinding him as her arm reforms into the familiar clawed hand that she hasn't seen in so long. It sets itself in front of her, blocking Tyki from coming any closer without being attacked. Allen huffs in agitation, her eyes wide as they settle upon the weapon that pulses with power so intense that it nearly overwhelms its wielder.

_My Innocence…_

Allen barely notices when the space behind her begins to glow, the Ark opening on the command of a subconscious thought. She steps backwards absentmindedly, her eyes refusing to break contact with Tyki's.

"I…" she starts, her mouth going dry at the sight of the Noah's panicked expression.

"Allen, wait!" he exclaims, stepping forward barely a foot before he grunts in pain. "Think about this rationally! You aren't fit to be confronting anyone, let alone the whole Noah Clan!"

 _I know that_ , she thinks. _That isn't why I'm doing this. I can't leave them alone; no matter what, I have to try to save them. If I go, there's a chance that they will be given a chance to fight for another day. It's better than doing nothing and letting them get tortured and killed._

_I am an exorcist, after all. I can't afford to be selfish._

"I'm sorry," she says, and even the white-haired girl doesn't fully understand why these are her chosen parting words.

Right before her surroundings fade away, Allen smiles sadly.


	35. A Mountain of Conflict

The sudden silence leaves her with a bittersweet feeling; on one hand, the time spent with Tyki had been largely silent as of late, but on the other, he had also provided a constant presence. With the slamming of the metaphorical door behind her, she feels said presence being snuffed out with finality. It won't be forever, she knows, and maybe not even for long, but it's a strange feeling to be separated from him. Even if their journey together has been rife with personal issues and a long-seated aura of mistrust, it still seems odd to be purposely leaving him behind.

For a brief second, Allen almost considers turning back—but then she remembers what Sheril had said, and Tyki's adamant insistence on stopping her from going, and instead she sighs in resignation. She can't turn back; not only will it be a waste of time, but she is genuinely worried that Tyki will use force to stop her if necessary. But even with this self-reassurance, the leftover doubt nags at her.

She can feel the difference as soon as the Ark's door closes behind her. In the back of her mind, she thinks that it should bring relief, or at least a feeling of relative safety now that she is away from the Noah who had been a major source of her internal conflict for the past few months. But instead, the newfound solitude only brings her a sense of impending doom. Or perhaps this is just because of the most recent development in her life: Sheril's ominous call, and the blatant ultimatum that had accompanied it. Surely anyone would be unhinged by the revelation that their closest friends are being held captive by the enemy. Allen is assured that many others would react with helpless despair. Choosing to go confront the person who made the veiled threat is probably the noblest course of action, despite the dangers present in doing so.

She isn't doing this for want of being noble, though; the white-haired girl knows she has no choice. But even so, she second guesses herself as she sits down at the piano, not only because of the danger of her decision, but because of what she has just done to Tyki. Try as she might, she cannot get the image of him out of her head, desperate and pleading with her not to go see his brother. He had seemed half-mad. Surely abandoning him will only cause more conflict between them; who knows what he will think and do now, in his chaotic emotional state? Insanity, even when it's temporary, makes people do things that contradict all rational thought. Allen can only hope that, should he choose to go to the Order as well, that she beats him there.

Honestly, it would be better if he did not come at all.

But of course, even with these thoughts plaguing her, her guilt is not nearly as prominent as her fear. She has no idea what horrors await her at Headquarters, but she knows that it can't be anything good. While a confrontation with Sheril is still a safer bet than one with Wisely, she doesn't underestimate the depths of that man's dislike of her. She's willing to guess that Tyki's brother isn't too pleased with her at the moment. Her treacherous past as the Fourteenth notwithstanding, she is still the person who had stolen his dear brother away, and he had made his opinion abundantly clear in their recent conversation. It remains to be seen what the unstable Noah has in store for her.

As for Road…well, this is probably the only upside to her decision. The presence of the youngest member of the Noah Clan is what ultimately convinces Allen to remain firm in her choice to abide by Sheril's "request"—that, and the fact that her friends' lives are at stake. The young woman only knows one thing with any certainty, and that is the fact that Road is the one who had saved her from captivity. She still isn't privy to what the spiky-haired girl's motivations are beyond feelings of familial loyalty, but this is enough to reassure her that Road will not put her or her child in direct danger. She cares for both Joyd and Neah, and by extension, herself and Tyki. If Sheril tries to either hurt her or the baby, Allen is confident that Road will stop him.

With this in mind she tells herself to relax, and is disappointed but not surprised when it doesn't work. The one factor in this situation that she finds questionable is Sheril—and the Earl, if he is present—but there isn't much she can do about that. Allen balks at the dangers that lurk ahead of her, and she only finds ironic reassurance in the chance that another Noah will protect her. How strange. She has no choice in the matter, though.

No matter what happens, she will have to trust Road.

* * *

Bound and gagged in a room, all alone but for the other two hostages he can hear shuffling on either side of him. He can't see them, for they are sitting a bit behind him, but he judges that they are okay from their nervous breaths and tapping feet. As for the room that they are in, he recognizes it to be a closet, albeit a relatively large one. The interior is drab and gray, with several sanitary supplies lying in corners and draped across the dull floor.

To put it bluntly, this is not how Kanda had imagined his day ending up, but the fact that he had been caught off guard is the least of his problems now. The most urgent thing on his mind is what will happen later, when the Moyashi arrives. He wonders morbidly what the two Noah will do with her; will they simply kill her on sight, no longer seeing her as worth the effort to kidnap? Will they dangle her in front of them like bait, milking her suffering for sadistic pleasure? Or will they simply take her away again, ripping away what little semblance of freedom she had been able to salvage?

He remembers that she had been pregnant when she left. Is she still carrying it? Did she give birth already? Did she get rid of it? If she's still pregnant, will the Noah hesitate in killing her, or will they still do it with no problem?

Every thought is a negative one, and Kanda knows that he will find out the answers to his questions whether he wants to or not.

 _If she even comes in the first place_ , he reminds himself, for the first time trying to trick himself with optimistic thoughts. He doesn't believe them, though, not really, but at the moment it's literally the least he can do. His wrists are aching with burns from how much he has strained against the bonds that keep him prone in his chair, but no matter how hard he tries to break them, it's no use.

 _They must be made of dark matter. Figures. Of course they don't want their hostages escaping before their target arrives._ If he had Mugen with him, he would have been able to cut the ties with no problem. But the Noah aren't that dumb; he can't feel or see his beloved weapon anywhere in the room. He wouldn't be surprised if they had already destroyed it along with Lavi's hammer and Lenalee's boots. It would make their job that much easier, since the three of them would be reduced to normal humans; they wouldn't have a chance in hell of winning then, even if they weren't tied up and locked in a closet.

Strangely enough, however, none of them—or at least Kanda, since he can't actually communicate with either of his companions—had felt anything unusual; if their Innocence had been destroyed, wouldn't they have felt it? Surely an object so central to their identity and life force would have its loss noticed by the wielder—which means that, no matter how confusing it seems, neither of the Noah had destroyed their weapons or the Innocence inside.

Why? Isn't killing all of the exorcists and vanquishing the Order their endgame? Why would they bother to save the very weapons that have the ability to end their lives? If he were a Noah, he would have destroyed them the first chance he got. To Kanda, it makes no sense—and the samurai is certain that both Lenalee and Lavi are thinking the same thing.

What exactly are the Noah trying to accomplish here? They want the Moyashi—that much is obvious, and it makes him quiver with rage just thinking about it—but beyond that, he has absolutely no idea what their ultimate plan is.

And this makes his situation even more precarious.

Kanda stiffens upon hearing the sound of a doorknob being turned, and a few seconds later he watches with slanted eyes as the door creaks open. Try as he might, he cannot hide the fury roiling beneath his skin when the Noah comes in. It might be partially because he looks so much like Tyki Mikk; he wouldn't be surprised if the two were blood relatives. He knows they are; he can feel it in his bones. In all honesty, the samurai would hate him regardless, but the fact that he is related to the bastard who had hurt the white-haired girl makes his situation that much more loathsome. The fact that the two look alike at all also adds more fuel to the flames. It reminds him of his declaration to kill Mikk, and thinking about this while being tied up and weaponless frustrates him enough to almost cause an aneurism.

He tries to say something to the Noah, forgetting for a moment that his mouth is full of cloth; the only sounds that come out are stifled mutters. The gray-skinned man glances at him, his face void of emotion for the most part. There remains a subtle hint of his mood, in spite of his apparent efforts to control it. If Kanda looks closely, he thinks he can see a hint of concern on his face, coupled with restrained anger—anger that is not directed at them, he realizes. He seems to be utterly indifferent to the exorcists sitting in front of him. The Japanese man would have thought that he would be delighted to be able to torture them in Allen's absence. After all, he had only said that he wouldn't harm them or kill them—that doesn't mean he can't hurt them in other ways.

As for the concern on his face…Kanda isn't a fool. He knows that concern is not for him. But if not, then who is it for?

His eyes narrow even more as the Noah walks over to him, and he tenses reflexively.

_What is he doing?_

His gray hand reaches for the bound man's face, and idly the samurai wonders if he's going to kill him right here, before the Moyashi even arrives. He could do it, if he really wants to. It's not as though Allen would refuse to come just because one of the hostages is dead.

_Is this it?_

Kanda finds himself wholly surprised when instead of agonizing pain, he feels stark relief as the cloth that is tied around his head loosens and falls away. He automatically takes a deep breath, stretching his aching jaws to rid himself of the stiff sensation. He turns his head slightly to the side, watching as the Noah does the same for Lenalee and Lavi; he can't see their faces from here, but he's sure that they are just as shocked as he is.

_Is he letting us go?_

That brief spark of hope is short-lived, for the Noah quickly retakes his place in front of them.

 _So he just took the gags out. What, is he trying to show us that he's humane? Don't make me laugh. If he thinks that removing our gags is going to make us trust him, then he's got another thing coming_.

Then again, he thinks, this could all just be a trick, a mind game of some sort. The Noah are particularly good at that—granted, he doesn't know what this Noah's power is, but it can't be anything good. Wary cobalt eyes scan the gray man for any nefarious aura, not willing to believe in the innocence of his actions. He can still sense how wound up the Noah is—how wound up all of them are. The fact that he can't read his enemy beyond that is infuriating, and he waits for a moment to see if he will say anything. But still, he says nothing, and with rage-fueled adrenaline the samurai decides to say it for him.

"You fucking bastard," he spits, his saliva no doubt striking the other man in the face. Lenalee and Lavi both stay silent behind him, clearly unwilling to risk angering their captor. As for him—well, he doesn't care. Kanda is past the point of caring what happens to himself. Allen, though…that's another story. "What are you trying to do by getting the Moyashi here? Are you going to kill her?!" No response reaches Kanda's ears; only the continuous worried glance remains on the Noah's face, further fueling the man's anger. The samurai feels his teeth grind together in wrath; at the moment, all he wants to do is tear the Noah's head off. It might make him feel better. "Answer me! What are you going to do to her?!"

"Calm down, Yuu—"

"Shut up, idiot!"

A sigh, one so soft that he nearly misses it, finally leaves the Noah's mouth. "Nothing," he says, "and I would appreciate it if you didn't call me such rude names. I wouldn't want to slip up and hurt you before Allen Walker gets here. That wouldn't bode well for our relationship."

"Relationship?!" Kanda snaps. "What the fuck are you talking about?! The only relationship we have is one of enemies. I swear, when I get out of here, I'm going to slice your throat, you son of a bitch."

"Now, now," another voice says from outside the door, this one decidedly familiar—so familiar that it fills Kanda with confusion. "You shouldn't go making such threats while you're tied to a chair. Save the gloating for later. It won't help you now."

All three of the hostages turn their heads sharply, staring at the person now standing in the doorway with renewed shock.

 _It…it can't be. What the hell is happening? This must be a trick—there's no way this can be real_. "…Cross?" he says, his voice barely a whisper. Even saying the name causes a chill to go up his spine.

"The one and only," the man responds, shooting him a snarky smile.

Kanda stares, dumfounded and uncomprehending, as instead of attacking the Noah before him, the red-haired General saunters into the room and comes to a stop a few feet away from the gray-skinned man. He seems to be at ease, a fact that the samurai doesn't understand; why isn't he trying to save them?

Cross gives all three of them a once-over, clicking his tongue in disapproval when he sees the burn marks on Kanda's wrists and the definite indents left on their faces by the gags.

"You didn't need to be so rough with them," he berates the Noah. "Sheril, is it? What makes you think that they'll be willing to trust you now?"

"I don't need to hear your criticisms, Exorcist," the Noah—Sheril—replies. "I may have agreed to work with you, but that doesn't make us friends. Even saying that we are allies would be a stretch. As soon as my daughter gave the word, I would happily turn against you."

"Fair enough," Cross agrees. "Then I'm at least glad to be sure that Road will not betray me." The General sighs once more before returning his attention to the three exorcists sitting in front of him. "Now then—I suppose all of you are wondering what's going on, correct?"

"Just a bit," Lavi stutters, disbelief evident in his tone. "Take your time. I want to hear this."

Neither Kanda nor Lenalee say anything.

"It's quite simple, really," Cross begins. "Well, in actuality it's a long story, but I'll fill you three in on that later. The point is that two Noah invaded Headquarters, as you know. Road, the Noah of Dreams, used her interdimensional door to bring herself and Sheril below ground in the holding cells. The both of them came to my cell to make an offer I couldn't refuse. Well, it was mainly Road who was doing the offering—Sheril here seemed insistent on killing me. Road managed to convince him that I could be of use, and since I have no qualms about working with Noah for a common goal, I agreed to her proposal—that, provided I help them, they would let me out."

Finally, Kanda seems to find his voice. "What the hell are you...what did they want your help with?" What he really wants to know is why in the hell he would ever trust a Noah, regardless of whether or not they freed him from prison, but he doesn't see that train of conversation getting him anywhere.

Then, to the samurai's shock, a third voice answers him—this one feminine.

"To protect Allen-chan," the spiky-haired Noah says as she saunters into the room. _This must be Road_ , Kanda thinks, _the Noah that Cross is talking about._

His first instinct is to deny her claim; his second is to believe that he must have heard her wrong. He's certain that the confusion must show on his face and those of his companions, because Cross releases a hearty sigh.

"Say what you want, but it's the truth," he tells them sternly. "What Sheril said to my apprentice was a lie. It would have taken too long to explain the circumstances, and it's far easier to convince her to come when your lot's lives are at stake. The truth is that there are no other Noah here, and you three are not hostages. I will have to apologize for the property damage later, seeing as I was the one who demolished the floors and ceilings. Everyone else is locked on the lower levels of Headquarters, but no one's been killed." Cross sends them all an ironic grin. "Now, if we untie you, will you please refrain from attacking them? I promise I'll explain everything later."

* * *

As she exits the Ark, the white-haired girl is jittery with nerves. She steps out with numb feet, barely feeling the ground beneath her as she stares up at the castle that she calls home—or at least she had up until recently. If she's being honest, she still considers it to be her home, even if no one else does.

Allen's legs are stiff, her entire body tense and eager to turn back around and take shelter in the Ark. She had felt more or less firm in her resolve not long ago, but now that she's arrived at the Order her anxiety surges to an all-time high. A nagging voice at the back of her mind tells her to listen to her doubt and run away, but she tries to ignore it. It wouldn't do anyone any good if she were to back out now; who knows what Sheril will do to the others if she doesn't show up? As much as she wants to believe that Road will stop him from hurting her friends, she knows that trusting her with their lives is a risk she would prefer not to take. Even if the spiky-haired girl _does_ try to stop Sheril, would she really be able to protect three defenseless people at once, especially if the attacker is a member of her own family?

No. Allen isn't going to let that be a possibility. She won't let her fear rule her, no matter how rational that fear is.

But why is she afraid in the first place? After everything that had happened, all the dangers she had ignored in favor of completing her missions, she finds it hard to understand her own emotions. She's never felt this kind of stark terror before, where even her own body doesn't want to listen to her commands—not even the first time she had fought an Akuma.

She can't even begin to compare it to her fear of Tyki, but mostly because it feels nothing like what he had instilled in her. It's different—and, as she stares up at the ominous castle, she realizes exactly how.

The fear isn't for herself—if it were, she would have turned tail and ran from the Order a long time ago. Anyone with a lick of self-preservation would have done the same thing. No, Allen isn't concerned so much for herself as she is for the others around her. On missions and during battles, whenever one of her friends had been in danger, the young woman had suddenly found that she couldn't care less what happened to her. It only makes sense that she would feel the same in this situation, though she must admit that the instinct to protect is different as well. It feels more intense, more desperate, and it makes her want to hide. Her friends may be at stake—as is her master, since as far as she knows he's still in there—but so is someone else.

Her child. It's a horrible feeling to want to simultaneously save both her offspring and her friends when she knows that no matter what she does, she will be putting one of them in grave danger. Protect her baby and neglect the others, or show up and put said baby in harm's way…

Allen has already made her decision, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less. Her hands hover protectively over her belly as she approaches the entrance to Headquarters, but she tries to keep the fear out of her expression. It's only a matter of walking from here on out…

She can feel her stomach churn incessantly as she approaches, a sickening feeling made even more wretched by her dry throat and hard gaze. Is this unbearable tension all in her mind, or can the others feel it too? Allen can only hope that it's the former.

The doors creak open with a loud cry, and the white-haired girl holds her breath as she walks inside.

The air within is stagnant, the hallways as far as she can see empty and abandoned. Yet, contrary to what she had expected, there are no signs of blood; there aren't even any brutalized corpses of Finders lying around. In spite of Sheril's promise not to harm anyone, Allen had expected to find at least one unfortunate victim of the man's unstable rage. Instead, the only sign of a struggle that she can see is a large, gaping crater at the end of one of the hallways; the area around it is littered with debris.

She swallows dryly. "Sheril!" she yells, her voice echoing loudly in the empty room. She ignores the sweat that breaks out on her forehead and at her temples. "I'm here. Show yourself." No one answers her, and after a few seconds of idle silence Allen loses her patience. "Where are you?! Are you ignoring me?"

"You got here faster than I thought you would. I'm impressed; I guess that means you're learning to better control the Fourteenth's abilities."

The young woman spins around, her heart racing madly until she sees the person standing at the end of the adjacent hallway. To her relief, it's not Sheril who greets her, but Road in all of her deceptively childish glory. She stands with one hand on her hip, but, to Allen's surprise, she doesn't have Lero with her. A tense smile rests on the younger girl's face, but Allen knows enough about her to infer that it's not a happy one.

"Road," she greets the spiky-haired Noah. Though she is still nervous, she forces herself to ask, "Why are you doing this?" _I thought you wanted me to be free. Why else would you go to the trouble of going against the Earl's orders? What are you trying to accomplish?_ These thoughts go unspoken, but Allen is certain that Road is reading between the lines. At the very least, she's an expert at reading people. There's no doubt in her mind that she is aware of her inner turmoil.

"I know what you're thinking," Road says, confirming Allen's thoughts. "You should know by now that things aren't always what they seem, especially where the Noah are concerned. You know this firsthand, don't you?" Allen frowns, and Road sighs in resignation. "All right, then. Come with me—I'll take you to the others. Just promise me that you won't attack Sheril when you see him, okay? I swear it's not what you think."

A still-wary Allen follows Road to a familiar door, complete with the untouched cobwebs that had been there since its owner left. It seems that, even in his absence, no one had bothered to clean his quarters. It shouldn't surprise her—and it doesn't—but what _does_ surprise her is the fact that Road has brought her here. The white-haired girl narrows her eyes.

 _Master's room? What's going on? Why did they choose to put everyone in here, of all places?_ She doesn't bother to ask, and Road doesn't bother to say anything as she swings open the door.

But when Allen sees the room's occupants, her eyes nearly bulge out of her head with shock. She resists the urge to rub her eyes, caught up in her disbelief at the current circumstances.

_Is this real?_

Not only is Sheril lurking in the corner of the room, his eyes downcast and head tilted towards the floor with a reserved scowl, but so is everyone else: Lenalee, Lavi, Kanda—her heartstrings pull at the image of the stoic samurai—and, to her eternal shock, her Master. Not only this, but none of the former are tied up or restrained in any way; her three friends are sitting stiffly on one side of the couch, while Cross is reclining lazily on his portion. The red-haired man seems utterly carefree, taking periodic drags on his cigarette apparently without any qualms at being in the same room as two deadly Noah. At least the others appear suitably tense, but this realization is undercut by the sheer relief she feels at seeing them all alive and (relatively) safe.

Neither Cross nor Sheril make any noise in response to her arrival, but the others certainly do. Lenalee is the first one to notice her, and her big eyes grow impossibly wider as she gapes at the white-haired girl. Lavi does the same, though to a lesser extent, and Kanda merely stares at her with an unreadable expression.

"Allen-chan?" the Chinese girl whispers, her eyes cloudy.

A small grin overtakes her face, and she momentarily forgets the horrid circumstances. "Hi there, guys. I'm back. Uh, sorry it took so long, by the way."

Lenalee's eyes fill with tears, but before she has a chance to hug her best friend her eyes drift downwards, widening in confusion when she notices the obvious protrusion of her stomach.

Allen pales dramatically. _I forgot that Lenalee and Lavi don't know about my pregnancy…what will they think of me now?_ She doesn't think that she can handle any more rejection, especially coming from her closest friends. If they knew the truth, would they accept it? Kanda certainly hadn't reacted very well, but if he has it within himself not to blame her, then she hopes fervently that neither will they.

"Allen…" Lavi says, clearly following Lenalee's train of thought. Kanda stays deathly silent. "What is this…?"

On second thought, perhaps she should lie. The young woman searches her mind for a possible explanation other than the child having been fathered by a Noah, but alas, she comes up short. She would have preferred to simply skirt over the subject entirely, but that's unrealistic; it's obvious by the expressions on her friends' faces that they are far from letting the matter go.

"Well…" she begins, her cheeks burning. "You see, I…um…it's a long story, but—"

"The kid's mine."

Everyone in the room—Allen included—can hardly believe their ears when Kanda finally decides to speak up. He had been pensive and silent up until now, his hard gaze riveted on the white-haired girl's face and engorged stomach, but he seems to have recovered his wits at the same time Allen loses hers. She would have been relieved to know he still has his sanity were it not for what he has just said.

"What?" Lenalee gasps, echoing Allen's thoughts exactly. The Chinese girl glances between the two of them, her features aghast. "How is that possible? You two are…?"

"Kanda!" Allen splutters, her cheeks an even deeper shade of crimson than before. "What are you doing?"

The samurai sighs dramatically, pointedly ignoring the young woman's desperate gaze. "It must've happened back when we first met up again, after she escaped. We were alone for a while before we came back to the Order. No more questions."

"Are you kidding me?" Lavi exclaims. "What do you mean _no more questions_?"

"Exactly that, baka usagi. Now shut up."

For once, Allen is thankful for the Japanese man's brusque demeanor. While she feels guilty for Kanda taking the heat onto himself, she's also glad to be out of the spotlight for now. Lenalee still looks concerned—while Lavi, she notices, has an aura of complete disbelief—but neither of them push the issue further, though she can tell they would like to. Neither Road nor Sheril offer any words of objection either, something that Allen is relieved by. However, she still casts a wary glance in the male Noah's direction. She had been so caught up in the moment that she had almost forgotten—the last time she had seen him he had tried to take her back to the Earl. He had tried to kidnap her again—or so she thinks, what with the obstacle of her hazy memories. Neah had been controlling her at the time, so she doesn't remember much.

Either way, the white-haired girl knows that she doesn't want him near her.

"Master…what are they doing here?" she asks the silent General. "What's going on? I thought that…"

"You thought that they were hostages," he finishes for her, gesturing to her friends. "Understandable—that's what Sheril wanted you to think, so that you would get here quickly. As you can see, this is not the case." Cross scratches his head absentmindedly.

"In fact, Lord Millennium doesn't even know that we're here," Road interjects, glancing at Allen with a sly twinkle in her eye. "I convinced Father to help, and along the way we freed Cross from his cell. In return, he agreed to work with us to protect you. It's much easier than doing so by himself. But I knew you would never agree to something like that, so I asked Father to fake a hostage situation to get you here."

Allen cocks an eyebrow. "Protect me? Why? I thought that your father wanted to take me to the Earl."

"It's quite a difficult situation," Sheril observes, crossing his arms over his chest. "At first, I'll admit that I did. But when Road and I discussed it, I came to realize that protecting you is the only way to save my brother—at least for now. I've agreed to cooperate with Cross temporarily."

The room rings with overwrought silence, each of the occupants trying to make sense of the situation. There is a part of her that wants to deny everything that Sheril has said, but the look on his face keeps her from doing so. He looks deadly serious, and no amount of searching gives her any indication that he is lying.

"I'm sorry," Lavi says hesitantly, interrupting her internal monologue, "but I have no idea what's going on. Can one of you _please_ explain what the hell is happening? Why does the Earl want Allen so badly?"

"That's a good question," Cross agrees, "and I do think it's about time we cleared the air, for the most part. All three of you should know something—idiot apprentice, is there anything you want to tell your friends?"

As the trio's eyes fixate on her, the white-haired girl cannot shake the feeling that her mentor has just thrown her to the wolves.

* * *

He's a mess, and he has no reservations about admitting it.

A few hours have passed, and darkness has already fallen upon the town. Tyki has forgotten where he went in his fit of rage and desperation; he knows that he had been in a bar at some point, but he isn't there anymore. He can't even remember why he went in the first place. Maybe he had been kicked out. He wouldn't be surprised if he had disturbed more than a few customers, or even killed some before leaving. It would explain the blood on his clothes.

It isn't his fault, though—it _isn't_. He can't even remember deciding to go to the damn place. If he were more mindful of what is going on, then he would have been concerned for his sanity. Had Joyd taken over, taking advantage of his tumultuous mindset, and led him to the bar? Had he merely been pursuing his own freedom?

It doesn't matter, Tyki decides. Joyd's brief stint of freedom has been cut short; now he is in a back alley somewhere, leaning against the moldy brick wall to steady his wobbling legs. His skull is pounding, and he frequently blinks his eyes to get rid of the dizzy sensation. As he does so, there's a voice in the back of his mind that chastises him for his negligence. It tells him to go, _right now_ , and rush back to the Black Order Headquarters to find the girl who had left him. She's walking into a trap, isn't she? He has to stop her.

**Do you?**

And there it is—the nagging presence that he hasn't heard nor wanted to hear in a long time. He can always feel him there, lurking beneath the surface, but had fooled himself into believing that he is able to maintain complete control. Now it seems apparent that the extent of his control lies with his emotional stability. Tyki thinks that he should be worried, that he should resist the Noah's pull, but right now he doesn't really mind it all that much. The only thing he wants is to get rid of the pounding headache that plagues him—and to go find Allen. He sees her in his mind, her heart-shaped face tainted with fear and worry, and it makes him want to tear somebody's hair out. She can't be alone; he has to be there with her. She may have left him, but she hasn't killed him. She can't get rid of him that easily. He can still find her again.

 _Yes, I have to go…I have to stop her…I have to keep her safe._ Blinding pain shoots through his skull, and Tyki groans into the empty air.

**Keep her safe? You're even dumber than I originally thought. She's probably already back at Headquarters. Besides, do you really think that you can protect someone who hates you? She's made it perfectly clear that she doesn't want your help.**

_No…she doesn't hate me. She told me that she doesn't. We reached an understanding. We_ …

**And you believed her? I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You'd believe her if she suddenly said that she was in love with you. That's how desperate you are. That's how badly you want to stay human, even though it would be much easier for you to just give in to your Noah side.**

_That isn't true._

**Yes it is. She makes you feel human, doesn't she? Not like a monster—not like me, even though we both know you like it. That's all you care about, isn't it? Being able to keep both halves of yourself. You try to cheat the universe by keeping both, when it's obvious that they contradict each other.**

_You have no idea what I want. You don't understand._ Even as he thinks the words, Tyki knows that he is losing the greater battle; he can feel the last vestiges of his resistance begin to slip away.

**I understand that you're pathetic. How long are you going to keep holding onto her, chasing after her like a disgusting lapdog? It's me that did this to you, who caused you to become attracted to her, but you've taken it to a whole new level. She left you to go save her friends, and you still want to protect her. She doesn't want you around! If she did, she would have brought you with her. It's just like before—history repeating itself once again. No matter how close you think you've become, she will always leave you in the end. She will always betray you.**

Tyki's hands fly up to cup his face, his fingers splaying over throbbing temples as another wall of agony slams over him. _Stop this! I know what you're trying to do! I won't let you take over!_

**But it's still working, isn't it? You know I'm right; why don't you just accept it? It was always meant to be this way.**

_I…I can't let go of myself._

**She left you for good. Wouldn't it make you feel better to get revenge?**

_I can't let it take over...the Noah..._

His knees start to give out, but Tyki somehow manages to hold himself upright, digging his back into the brick wall for leverage. The pain is now almost too much to bear, and on a subconscious level, he knows that he will not last much longer against it.

**She went back to them—to the other exorcists, and to that samurai. When will you accept that you have to let her go? She's the enemy, after all, even if she is pregnant with your child. You can't keep fooling yourself.**

_You…_

**You know I'm right.**

A strangled cry wrenches its way out of his throat, and Tyki can feel himself slip even further into the darkness. It's only a matter of time now…

**She hates you.** **And even if she doesn't, you two will have to kill each other regardless. It's best to give up now. It won't hurt so much later.**

He tries to keep denying it, to see the dishonesty behind Joyd's words, but he cannot avoid recognizing the logic within them. It's true; they were never going to get away from all of this. The Order, the Earl, the other Noah...he and Allen never stood a chance of escaping the conflict. It was all a lost cause to begin with; they both should have recognized the futility of their actions earlier, and yet they had stayed on their doomed path, intentionally blind to their mistakes.

**You see? Even you know that it's true. No matter how much you want to stay with her, to stay yourself, and no matter how much you may wish to deny it...**

**...you will always be a Noah.**

And with that, his control crumbles. The wall he had so painstakingly built comes tumbling down, bringing with it all of the insecurities he had been hiding from even himself. The agony swells, washing over his entire body before dying down to a distant hum. He stands up straight, his limbs still shaking with leftover strain, and glances at his body. He looks much the same, but he feels different—stronger, somehow. He rearranges his hair and clothing, making sure that he at least looks presentable.

It's odd; it feels like he's looking at the world through a filmy lens, but the sensation is not entirely unpleasant. He feels more certain of himself, despite the fact that he knows something is off.

He has time to worry about such details later—right now, he has other things to deal with.

He has to go back to the Earl.


	36. A Rite of Passage

The tear stings her skin as it drips onto the back of her hand, but she doesn't bother to wipe it off. She knows that the feeling is only in her mind, anyway; still, Allen tries to push them back, to swallow them the way she's done before, and automatically forms a fist in her lap as a result. An ugly frown settles upon her lips, and she glares intensely at the floor as though it is the one to blame for her predicament. For the time being, she knows that she should stem her emotions and pull herself together, but the young woman finds that doing so is a far more monumental task than she had thought.

And why shouldn't it be? As it turns out, she had been right to dread the truth coming to light for her friends. In her relief at seeing them alive and unharmed, Allen had nearly forgotten that they would have to find out about her eventually. She had pushed that thought out of her mind, and perhaps there is even a part of her that never planned on telling them in the first place. It's not as though they would be thrilled about it.

The white-haired girl already knows that rejection hurts. It had hurt coming from Leverrier and from the high officials of the Order, but at least she had been able to deal with that. It had hurt a great deal coming from Tyki—the negative feelings associated with his rejection even surprised her in their intensity, but she supposes this is because of her own insecurity and the amount of time spent with him. It only makes sense, then, that it would wound her coming from her friends.

Their expressions are still fresh in her mind, and she has a feeling that they will be for a long time. The familiar faces that she calls friends…their denial and confusion are helplessly etched into her retinas, and no matter how much she squeezes her eyes shut the images will not be banished. She might be overthinking things, projecting her own fears onto them, but Allen doesn't allow herself to be so optimistic. It makes her want to hide, and hide she has—though she is sure that they could find her if they wish to. She is currently sitting in her old room; this would most likely be the first place they would check, so it's not as though she's trying very hard.

In a way, perhaps she wants to be found…but she knows that they won't try to talk to her yet. If even she doesn't want to see them, then the young woman can only imagine what they think of her. Cross is probably talking to them at this very moment, trying in his usual brusque manner to convince them of her trustworthiness.

Allen idly wonders why he bothers to try; she can hardly stand to look at her own reflection, much less understand why anyone else would want to. She recalls the trio's horrified faces when she told them her secret, and the mere act of remembering is enough to cause her teeth to grit painfully.

* * *

_A few hours ago…_

* * *

"A Noah? You're a…a Noah?"

Allen gulps at the question, recoiling from the action of having to repeat herself for Lavi's sake. Judging by his inquiry, he seems to have gathered his wits before Lenalee and Kanda, but they all share a similar expression: one of absolute denial, not that she had expected anything different.

They have known each other for a long time, after all, and prior to this no one had suspected a thing, much less that she is a Noah.

The tension hangs thick in the air, leaving the white-haired girl practically holding her breath in anxiety. She nods meekly at the redhead, who gapes back at her in disbelief.

As the clock continues to tick indefinitely, Allen waits for the ball to drop; she waits for the three of them to start their interrogation, to yell and irately deny that such a thing is even possible. She expects this, but when the ensuing silence instead drags on, it only makes her feel that much worse. Their thoughts are a mystery, though judging by the empty quietude, they can't be thinking anything positive.

"That…that can't be true," Lenalee finally objects, jumping to her feet with wide, panicked eyes. "Why are you saying such a thing? Allen-chan?"

"She's saying it because it's true," Cross interrupts, mercifully answering for Allen. The young woman silently thanks him.

Lenalee whips around to face the red-haired man, her brows drawn together in frustration. "What are _you_ saying, General? Do you two really expect us to believe this? Do you have any proof?"

"Proof? Do you want her to let the Noah take over, then? Would you like to see for yourself?"

"I…no, but…this can't be. What is this?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Isn't that right, Allen?"

_This can't be happening._

As the green-haired girl continues to object, her words become less and less confident, but after a few seconds Allen foregoes listening to them. Through it all, her ears seem to have retained a hollow ringing sound, becoming deaf to the noise of the world around them. Her eyes, however, remain sharp, and with them she is able to see the looks of pure horror and wholehearted rejection on her friends' faces—all except for Kanda's, she notes with a sinking feeling. His is cold and empty, and by far the worst of them all.

* * *

In the moment, Allen had almost feared that the samurai would try to confront her, or even hurt her. No—that isn't quite accurate; perhaps he wouldn't have hurt her physically, but that cold glare had done more than enough to lower her spirits and increase her guilt. Coupled with harsh words, the young woman is certain that it would have wounded her heart beyond repair. If even those three cannot find the will to accept her, then what is she supposed to do? Cross had told her to tell them that she is a Noah, but now Allen is thinking that doing so had been a terrible mistake. Not only are they wary of her, but she is genuinely worried that they will end up despising her.

_Even though it's not my fault?_

Is she just being cynical? Has she become jaded even in regards to the people she knows best? Or is she justified in thinking such things? If they don't trust her—if they hate her for being a Noah—then what will all of this have been for, anyway? If the very same people whom she is trying to protect want nothing to do with her, then it would be the ultimate irony—that after all she's done, all she's tried to do to keep the three of them in the dark, this will be the deciding factor in whether or not it was all for nothing.

That's not to say she would stop fighting if this were the case, but even so…it's an outcome she would prefer not to see. With the way things are going now, however, the future doesn't seem very bright for her. And, quite frankly, she can't blame Lenalee, Lavi, or Kanda for their reactions. They have only ever known the Noah as enemies; to them, the situation is as black and white as it can get. She had felt the same way at first. Now, with time, she has grown accustomed to the realization that she isn't who or what she thinks she is.

_Neah?_

He doesn't respond, though Allen can feel the Fourteenth watching from within. If he can sense her agony, he doesn't comment on it, strangely enough. There's something else off about him, too—something she can't quite put her finger on. It's as though there's someone else nearby…

_Neah? What are you—?_

The white-haired girl jumps slightly when she hears her door start to creak open. A thrill of fear goes through her, and then recedes once she sees the intruder's identity. She had expected him to come find her eventually, though this doesn't make her any happier about it.

Cross doesn't even bother to announce himself as he enters her bedroom, but Allen can't muster the energy to be angry at him for it. That doesn't mean she won't try, though; she tries in vain to force an annoyed glare to her face, but quickly abandons the effort as being pointless. It's not as though he would take the hint. Even if she screamed at him to get out, he would probably ignore her. Her master is notorious for not listening to anyone else's requests.

He takes a seat on the sofa beside her, leaving the young woman with enough space to not feel smothered by his presence. The two of them sit in silence for a while, and when he finally talks, what he tells her feels like a punch in the gut.

"I told them."

"…What?"

The red-haired man exhales, and his hand twitches towards the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He shoots her a subtle glance out of her corner of his eye, looks back at the pack, hesitates, and with a heavy sigh of resignation, relaxes once more.

"The things I do for you," he mutters. "Those three idiots. I told them everything that I know about the situation—the truth about you, the Fourteenth, your grandmother—and about how I helped you escape from the Order when the Noah attacked all those weeks ago. Since I've been in lockup all this time, I didn't have the chance to tell them before. I'm sure Tiedoll's apprentice would have chewed my ear off, had he been allowed in the cellblock. Anyway, you don't have to hide anything anymore—well, except for the true father's identity, of course. Thankfully those other two seem to have bought Kanda's lie."

Allen smiles brokenly. "Really? Thanks, I guess. But this doesn't change anything, does it? You can explain all you want, but I'm still a Noah to them. They're still afraid of me."

"Idiot apprentice," Cross scolds her. The sharp sound of his voice causes Allen to flinch in shock. "I'll admit that they're wary, but afraid? I don't think so. A wisp like you could never frighten them, not after what they've seen. Lenalee and the Bookman are loyal friends, though they aren't supposed to be according to Central. I can already tell by talking to them that they are starting to be swayed. That girl's emotions show plainly on her face, and though the Bookman is more stoic, there's no doubt that he feels guilty for being so callous with you. Perhaps if they had not known you before it would be different, but as it is you're still the same foolish girl you've always been. As for Kanda…"

Here Cross pauses, grunting slightly as though trying to find the proper words. She can't blame him; emotional support isn't exactly her master's strong suit, and she's surprised at the fact that he's even trying for her sake. "…Well, I'm sure you're already aware of this, but he's in love with you. There isn't much else to say about him. He will accept it in time—perhaps sooner than you think. So no, they aren't happy about it. They don't understand—but they will."

It shouldn't come as much of a surprise, but Allen still starts at hearing someone else say the words she had been avoiding for so long—that the Japanese man is in love with her. Does it make sense? No, but she had still thought as much herself, all the while conveniently brushing the topic aside. But unfortunately for everyone involved, it seems that she will never be able to avoid confronting the guilty truth.

"I don't want to hurt him," she whispers. "Any of them. I'm sick of it."

Cross says nothing at first, but then he shuffles a bit closer, bringing the white-haired girl's attention to his scruffy face. "You never want to hurt anyone," he says, "but you still do. Every single one of us does. It's an unavoidable truth about being an exorcist, and especially so for you now that you are awakening as a Noah." Then, in a display that makes her question whether or not the man before her is an imposter, he places his hand atop her head and lets it rest there comfortingly. "It would be bad for you to resist it. Believe me—it's in your nature, after all."

 _That's right. The Fourteenth Noah…the Noah of Destruction_. Just recalling the name Ezra had uttered in her dream-memory is enough to send chills up her spine. With a name like that, how can the young woman avoid causing others pain? How can she save others when her purpose seems to be to destroy instead? She swallows a large lump in her throat. "I…"

Two heavy-handed raps on the door cut Allen short, and she snaps her mouth shut as fast as she can.

"Come in," Cross calls out, heedless of her heated glare.

Stress paints her features as the door opens once again, and she silently prays that it will not be who she thinks it is…only to be proven hideously unlucky as Kanda is revealed in the doorway. Her master nods at him, but she pointedly avoids making eye contact as he enters the room. Complete silence envelops the three of them, only to be broken by Cross's intentional cough.

"So," he says, "where are the others? Have they not come around yet?"

Even as he speaks with Cross, Kanda's gaze is focused only on one thing—and it isn't the floor, Allen notes with a flushed face.

"They feel guilty," the samurai says. "They didn't want to make everything worse by coming here."

Cross raises an eyebrow. "And what about you?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"If that's so, then why did you come here? Do you not feel guilty as well?"

Try as she might to resist, Allen cannot avoid the urge to know the answer. But instead, with practiced ease, the samurai completely dodges the question.

"Where are the others?" he asks. "The Finders, the guards, the scientists. You said they were all trapped on the lower levels. I want to know where."

"And why is that?"

Kanda glares daggers at the General. "Why else? They should be let out. As far as I know, they haven't done anything—and besides, Lenalee's brother is down there, too. He's probably worrying himself sick. If we don't get him out of there soon all hell will break loose."

The red-haired man snickers, much to Kanda's visible frustration. "Knowing him, you're probably right," Cross concurs. "I don't doubt that he would try to use a half-baked invention with whatever materials he has on hand to get out. But what about the officials from Central? Would you have me release them too? Bear in mind that they might not be so willing to listen to reason."

Kanda's answer is quick and confident. "They can rot down there for all I care. There has to be a way to only free some of them, isn't there? I'm sure you can figure it out, General."

 _Kanda…what are you getting at?_ There's something off about this situation, and with a sinking stomach Allen hopes that she is only being paranoid. She glances at Cross out of the corner of her eye, and all her hopes are dashed as she sees the gleam of understanding in his eye.

_Master…please don't do it! Please don't leave me alone with him!_

"I see," Cross says, completely ignoring the white-haired girl's panicked expression. "I think I know who you're talking about. The Nurse and those scientists, right? And Komui as well, of course."

The Japanese man nods briskly.

"…Well, I suppose I have no reason to object. They all seem to trust my apprentice, so it shouldn't be an issue to let them in on it. What do you think?" He turns to face Allen as he asks, and immediately she feels as though she has been put on trial.

She sighs internally. _I can't say no, can I? If I do, then it wouldn't be fair to the others who are trapped down there. If I don't, then I'll be left alone with Kanda. There's no way he's going to let me slip away without confronting me, and he won't do it with Master around. Why do I always get put in these types of situations?_ "Well, I…I can't say for sure how they'll react," she admits, deciding to aim for a less conspicuous response. "I want to believe that they'll trust me regardless of what I am, but I just don't know if I can, given everything that's happened…" She sees Kanda's gaze harden out of the corner of her eye, and immediately backtracks. "But…if you two think it's safe, then I have to trust you."

Cross nods thoughtfully at her reply. "All right. If you're certain, then I'll go talk to Road about it. You stay here," he says sharply as the young woman starts to get up.

"What?"

"You heard me. You should rest for a while longer. You don't need the stress of more people knowing about your condition right now. Take a few more minutes—or hours, if you like."

With that, the red-haired man sweeps out of the room, leaving Allen wide-eyed and gaping at his audacity.

 _So this isn't what you would consider stressful, Master?_ Even though she knows he'd done this on purpose—the both of them had—it still irks her to no end.

A few seconds go by before the worry sets in; Kanda is still standing in the middle of the room, and he shows no signs of leaving even as she refuses to speak. He merely stares at her, his expression woefully unreadable—though she does thank whatever deity is watching out for her that he doesn't seem to be angry, at least not to the degree that he had been earlier. It's obvious that there's something on his mind, and Allen is caught between the desire of wanting to clear the air between them and avoiding the subject further.

 _What does he want from me? Isn't he even going to say anything, after how he acted earlier?_ _He could at least apologize for being so standoffish_. Even as she wishes this, Allen knows it will be a cold day in hell when Kanda falls to his knees and apologizes to her for his prior behavior. She decides that, in this instance, it's better for her to take the initiative.

"Kanda…I can never tell what you're feeling," she says softly, and his eyes instantly focus in on her. "You always have the same blank look on your face, except for when you get angry—which is a lot, by the way. I like to think that I'm good at reading you by now, or at least better than I used to be, but now I'm not so sure. Just tell me one thing: do you hate me? After learning that I'm a Noah, do you still see me as a friend? As an ally?" _Do you hate me for what happened all that time ago, when I used you to relieve my pain?_

Anxiety eats away at the young woman's calm exterior, and with a heavy heart she waits for Kanda to acknowledge the fact that she has spoken. The samurai angles his face away from her, his expression pensive.

"I never thought of you as a friend."

His blunt statement feels like a literal stab in the chest, and Allen has to put conscious effort into not letting her agony show on her face. Of all the things he could have said, this one decidedly hurts the most. "…Oh. I see…I'm sorry for asking, then."

Apparently she had said something wrong; perhaps she had let her calm pretense slip for a moment, because Kanda's eyes go wide at her timid apology. "That's not what I—listen," he says with a sigh. "What I meant was that I hated you when we first met. But…you remember what I told you before you were locked up by Leverrier, right?"

She nods sheepishly, as his reminder brings back memories she would rather forget. "Yes. That you didn't want to end whatever we were doing. So…was that a lie, then?"

"No," he snaps. "I just wanted to make myself clear: what we did is not what I consider friendship. I don't know what you think about it, but to me it's not as fickle as that."

She opens her mouth to protest, but the words die on her tongue. His subtle accusation that she had not taken their encounter seriously stings, but if she were to object to this it would only be counterproductive to what she wants to tell him. Allen knows that she cannot keep leading him on—even if she were to return his feelings some day, she isn't yet capable of it—but at the same time, she had hoped to never have this conversation at all. She's well aware that it isn't fair to Kanda, that it's selfish; it doesn't sit right with her to toy with the emotions of other people, but what else is she to do? Saving everyone's lives—including that of her future child—takes first priority. Getting emotionally involved with someone—a close friend, no less—when she isn't even certain of how she feels can't be a good idea, especially with all that is looming over their heads. On the other hand, denying Kanda's advances outright would only serve to widen the already yawning gap between them—but for right now, it seems that is all she can do.

"I'm sorry," she tells him, her voice soft in contrast to the sharpness of her words. "I don't think…I don't think I can be what you want, not after everything that's happened to me."

"…Because of him?"

Kanda doesn't need to clarify who "he" is; Allen already knows what he's asking her, and even she doesn't know the answer—is she too damaged, too broken, to ever allow someone else to truly be close to her in that way?

Maybe.

She nods tentatively. "Yes…you understand, don't you? Especially since I'm—well, you know." She gestures to her stomach. "I can't say for sure if things will ever be able to go back to how they were. I'm a pregnant Noah, and above all else I'm the same Noah that betrayed the Clan. Things are a bit complicated; I can't make any promises."

Once again, Kanda sends her that same intense stare, the one that sends chills throughout her body and spells doom for those who cross him. "Because of what he did to you."

 _Is he just talking in circles now?_ "Kanda…are you okay?" It's a dumb question, but the young woman cannot help but to ask it; with the way the Japanese man is staring into the abyss, she grows understandably concerned.

Predictably, though, he doesn't answer. He sends her one last lingering stare before quietly exiting the room. As he turns away from her, Allen is cursed to notice the flash of potent rage in his dark eyes—and then, she wonders cynically if she hasn't somehow made things worse.

It wouldn't be the first time, after all.

* * *

It doesn't take long for the Earl to find him.

With the way he has been brazenly displaying himself in public, Tyki would be more surprised if he weren't found. He hasn't exactly been keeping a low profile, and that is his intention. He spends every day finding a new set of humans to torment, eager to rid himself of his boredom if only for a little while.

The local newspapers have been having a field day with him around.

He isn't a complete moron; he is well aware that going to confront the Earl himself would be an idiotic move. It's much safer to wait for the Earl to come to him, as he would most likely do so alone. If he were to simply go back to the Ark, there's no telling whom he might run into, and there are a few members of his family that he would rather not mess with. It would only end up becoming an unfair fight, anyway.

So he waits.

He thinks.

And he tries not to think about the one person plaguing his mind above all others. As soon as she slips into the forefront of his thoughts, he resumes his sadistic pastime. He drives himself to the brink trying to rid his head of her essence, her image, her sound, and he nearly succeeds—but she always comes back. The smallest thing will catch his eye—an old man on the street, whose dull white hair cannot compare to hers but is similar enough to warrant a near-heart attack.

So he kills the man, and lets the blood flow until white becomes scarlet. There is no quick, clean death this time.

It's the same for all his other victims. In some way or another, they caught his eye—but all it does is anger him further when he realizes that they are not who he is looking for.

So he kills them, and it serves as long-needed therapy for the unstable Noah.

And then he waits.

* * *

At first, when he sees the familiar top hat, he is filled with a sense of gratitude and loyalty—and then, with a burst of clarity, he remembers his unfavorable position with the man. It's probably only been a day or two, but the amount of people he's killed in that time could span a week. No wonder he had nearly forgotten his goal.

He puts up his guard, careful to maintain a safe distance while also appearing to be kowtowing to the Earl's prowess. There is no one else around this time—no witnesses to kill, not that their word would mean much anyway. He had explicitly been waiting here in the dead of night, if only to make finding him the smallest bit easier. He doesn't have to worry about being conspicuous, either, not that it really matters to him at this point. It's more of a force of habit.

"Lord Millennium," he greets, formally inclining his head towards his master. "It's been quite a while, hasn't it? Sorry I've been gone for so long, but I've only recently recovered my wits."

The large man cocks his head to the side. "Is that so, Tyki-pon? You seem different. Your manner of speech appears to have changed slightly."

"That's not all."

"…No, it's not. I can already tell. Your hair is longer, too, but that's more superficial than anything else. What have you been doing all this time with Allen Walker? Sheril has told me some interesting stories, including that you attacked him in her defense."

"I wasn't in my right mind," Tyki admits, trying to appear as remorseful as possible. It isn't too difficult, considering that it's partially true. "It took me some time to finally realize that what I was chasing after was unattainable. As soon as I realized this, my true priorities became clear."

When he finishes speaking, the Earl's glasses suddenly light up with excitement. "Ah, I see now what's happened! You've started to give in to your Noah side, haven't you? Yes, I can see that now. You aren't quite there yet, but that's all right for now. I can only assume that, judging from your appearance, Allen Walker has left you behind, and this was enough to set you back on the right path. I'm sure you'll awaken fully soon enough. Now, tell me—how do you feel…Joyd?"

At the mention of his other name, so strange and yet fitting, a ravenous grin breaks out on the man's face. With a deceptively smooth voice he responds, "Powerful."

* * *

The others are a bit more suspicious of him, but they grow accepting of his return soon enough. Wisely in particular seems skeptical, but after a few moments of searching the other Noah's head he seems satisfied to conclude that Tyki—or Joyd, as the others have begun to call him at the Earl's behest—is not planning to betray them.

All of the Noah who are here gather at the dining table for the first meeting since his departure, and he has no qualms about admitting that he is starving. However, amidst the grand display of food, he notices that Road and Sheril are conspicuously absent. As he glances around the table, he also takes note of the fact that there are now new Noah; he counts them off in his head (with some struggle) and realizes with a hint of shock that, were Road and his brother here, there would be a total of thirteen.

 _All of us have reincarnated—all except for one_ , he recalls with a twist of wrath in his gut. _Ezra—the Fifteenth. She hasn't awakened yet, as far as I know. But when she does…I'll kill her, along with the Fourteenth and her grandchild._

 _What about Allen?_ A voice in the recesses of his mind speaks up, its tone panicked and noncompliant. _You love her. We love her._

 _You mean you love her,_ he shouts back _. I'm not the kind of person who will let someone else make a fool out of him. She's going to die, and it's going to be by my hand—and yours as well_.

 _I won't let you kill her_.

The Noah smirks to himself as he takes another bite of his food. _I'm afraid you don't have a choice. You may want to watch what you're saying, however; you never know who might be listening._

 _You bastard_.

"Joyd," the Earl calls, distracting the Noah from his inner thoughts.

"Hm?"

"I already asked this earlier, but I do wonder exactly what happened while you were with Allen Walker. Sheril only told us certain parts of it, but I'm sure we didn't get the whole picture. Would you care to elaborate?"

"Of course. Hmm…where to begin? I don't know if he told you this, but I suppose I should mention it just in case. As it turns out, Allen Walker is pregnant with my child."

_What are you doing? Don't tell them that!_

All at once, every piece of silverware in the room stops moving, including Skin's. Lulu Bell casts a humorless glance in his direction, her eyes shielded by glasses, and Wisely merely stares at the ceiling with a bored expression.

He notices that none of them look particularly surprised—especially Lulu Bell, since she had already known. As for the others, perhaps he had been less subtle than he had imagined while the white-haired girl was being kept here, or it could even be that Sheril had told them already.

"Is she?" the Earl asks casually. "It seems that Sheril conveniently left that part out. Perhaps he didn't notice."

_Sheril didn't tell them? Lulu Bell must have told the Earl, so of course he would notice that Sheril lied. Perhaps he just wants to give him the benefit of the doubt. Even so…_

"I find that hard to believe. She was already quite large by the time my brother found us."

_Stop! You're only making it worse!_

_And why exactly should I care about that? She is the enemy, you know._

"Is that so?" the Earl ponders. "So you're saying that Sheril lied knowingly about you impregnating the Fourteenth?"

"Apparently. To be honest, I thought that he had already told you. I assumed that this was why you sent he and Road to invade the Black Order Headquarters—to draw in and capture the weakened woman alive. Am I wrong?"

All at once, a cloud of foreboding settles over the room, and he immediately knows that he has said something wrong. The other Noah all turn to stare at him, their faces now betraying shock; the Earl is strangely stoic, he notes with concern.

_What's happened? Have I said something strange?_

He receives a shock of his own when the Earl says, "I didn't send them to the Order. Where did you get that idea?"

"…Pardon?"

"I mean," the large man enunciates, "that I never told Road or Sheril to invade Headquarters. Why do you think that I did?"

… _He can't be serious, can he? If he didn't send those two to take the Order hostage, then why did they go? There's no way that anyone could have impersonated Sheril's voice; I know it better than anyone here, and the only person I can think of who would be able to infiltrate the Order so easily is Road. Yet the Earl says he has no idea about it. What is going on here? Are they trying to act on their own?_

"Well…" he begins, "all I know is that Road and Sheril are at the Order. I was there when they called Allen. Sheril used one of the exorcist's golems to call and threaten her friends' lives if she did not go back. That's why she left me behind." A white-hot rage fills him again at the thought, but this time it is tempered by the outrage of his inner self. Even he—whether he is Tyki or Joyd, it's hard to figure out—cannot determine which feelings are his own. Is he angry with the white-haired girl for leaving him, or is he angry with himself for telling all of this to the Earl?

_Don't tell him any more. It will only put her in more danger._

_Do I seem like I care? The more danger she's in, the better off we both are. You should be thanking me._

"He's not lying," Wisely says from across the room, his aloof voice now tinged with shock. "I can't say whether what he's saying is true, though; all I know is that he believes it, and he has a vivid memory of hearing the call from the Fourteenth's golem."

"Of course I'm telling the truth. Why would I lie about that?"

There is a quiet murmuring among some of the Noah, but the Earl still appears to be lost in deep thought. He can't blame the man; what he's just been told could cause a great deal of conflict if true, and he knows for a fact that it is. Tyki wonders what he's thinking; he's certain his thoughts and those of the others must be traveling along the same path.

Why had Road and Sheril decided to act by themselves? Road had always been the good one, if he remembers correctly. She never wavers in her loyalty, and adores the Millennium Earl to no end. Her adoptive father is similarly loyal, and would never do anything to endanger his daughter. So why are they acting alone, without the Earl's help or guidance? To be fair, he had done a similar thing when he had originally attacked Headquarters to kidnap Allen, but he had been able to justify that—and it seems the Earl hadn't much cared about him acting on his own back then.

But this, Road and Sheril's unprecedented action, bothers the large man; it's obvious from his unyielding silence that what he's thinking can't be anything good.

"I understand," the Earl finally says, his voice instilling silence in the room's occupants. "I believe I've figured out what happened."

The others wait in perfect silence, none of them willing to interrupt their master when he's in one of his moods.

"I have talked about doing something like this—invading the Order, I mean—for quite a while now. I even discussed the matter with Road a few weeks ago, believing that it would effectively lure Allen Walker out of hiding. However, I put the plan on hold temporarily due to advice from both she and Sheril, and now I see why they told me to do so."

_Treachery? Have they been planning this for that long?_

The Earl folds his hands on the table. "I have no idea what this means. It could be that they don't wish to inconvenience us, and intend to bring the Fourteenth back here themselves. Or, in the worst case…it could mean that Road and Sheril have turned against me as well, or that they have secretly been working with the Fourteenth all this time. I don't want to believe it, but it's a possibility."

Tyki's eyes go wide. He had never even entertained the likelihood of Road and his brother defecting—Sheril had seemed to genuinely hate Allen all the times he had been around her. But the more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes, and though the Noah within him tries to smother it, he feels a surge of warmth in his chest.

 _If this is true, then that means…she's safe, or at least safer than she was. Allen is safe_.

These feelings are forced down faster than before, and he takes a deep breath before responding—but Wisely beats him to it.

"If that's true," the turban-wearing Noah says, "then we should go to Headquarters as well. Either way, it can't hurt to check and see what they're up to."

"I agree," Tyki says quickly, cursing his human side for sounding overly eager. "We should go right away. If Road and Sheril really are working with the Fourteenth, then it's only a matter of time before they make a move. They may have even made a run for it already; they must have figured that we would come after them eventually, right? There's no time to waste."

"Don't be so hasty, Joyd," the Earl chastises him. "We don't want to jump to any conclusions. No matter how fast we are in getting there, it will all be for nothing if both Road and the Fourteenth use their abilities to traverse dimensions and escape. It's better to pretend as though we know nothing, at least for a few more hours. If they are not back by then, then we will set out for the Order. Either way, we will be able to confront our enemies. I highly doubt they will all have time to get away, and Allen Walker would never leave her friends behind. She hasn't completely awakened yet, has she?"

"…Not as far as I know. She seemed in control when we last saw each other. But…" _I don't want to waste any more time. I have to kill her._

_I have to save her._

_She has to be destroyed for the sake of the clan—along with that filthy mongrel in her womb._

_Over my dead body. I won't let you hurt her. I'll have us killed first._

He growls internally, but tries to maintain a calm exterior for the others.

"I apologize if you feel idle, but it's necessary," the Earl goes on. His face suddenly lights up. "Ah, Joyd! I can feel the bloodlust radiating from you, but you must be patient. You wouldn't want to make a rash decision and accidentally kill the girl before I get to confront her, would you?"

His hands clench beneath the table, and an image surges forth in his mind: her, with her long wavy hair and rounded stomach, staring at him for once without a look of fear or anger, but pity. And then again, this time with a real smile, one that isn't forced or fake. It's sad, he can see it in her eyes, but it's real, and he has never felt more visible in his life than when she was looking at him.

By God, he isn't sure if he wants to help her or shower the walls in her blood, but he's afraid that the latter is winning.

And for once, he doesn't care.

"Don't fret, my dear. Your time will come soon enough; I can sense it. Your rite of passage is approaching, and when it arrives you will feel exhilarated like never before. This is what the Noah's awakening does to you, but the pain is only temporary." The Earl's voice lowers, and it takes on a more devious tone. "But no matter what, we will win. We will confront the Fourteenth, and this war will come to an end."


	37. A Piece of Him

It takes a fair while for Allen to gather up her courage and go find the others, but she's proud of herself for doing it. Just for taking that first step outside the door, she allows herself one moment of victory. It may be small—miniscule even, compared to what she's done in the past—but she's grown tired of doing nothing. It feels too similar to being on the Ark, with nothing to do except wait in Tyki's company.

What's worse is that there is a part of her that yearns for it, for that brief respite from the outside world. Even if it had been with Tyki, there's no doubting that she had grown accustomed to it. Now, without the familiar Noah here, she feels strangely…morose. She shouldn't, and Allen is content to write it off as a lapse in sanity, but still…

Ultimately, what she really hopes to gain by leaving her room is to see if Cross had stayed true to his word and let the others out. He had told her to stay in her room to avoid the emotional strain of facing them; that suits her just fine, but the stubborn half of her that seems to always win out won't let her stay put. She has a sneaking suspicion that her master knows this. This isn't to say that she's looking forward to another confrontation—she doesn't relish the idea of being presented with another awkward silence by her friends. If facing the other members of the Order is anything like what had happened with Kanda, then the white-haired girl would rather stay cooped up in her room.

She knows that's not an option. She at least has more nerve than that, and being anxious and on edge all the time grows tiresome after a while. It's better to get everything out in the open now, and a few minutes of solitary confinement had been enough to get that through her thick skull.

It still comes as a surprise when, instead of being greeted by silence or quiet murmuring, Allen hears a familiar lively voice as she emerges from the main hallway of Headquarters. Though it's been quite a while since she's heard it, she would know that distinctive voice anywhere.

_Komui?_

Sure enough, she sees the enthusiastic Chief practically strangling his sister with a bear hug upon entering the room to her right, and for a moment it feels as though nothing has changed. If she simply stares at the scene in front of her, she can almost pretend that she had never left. Komui is obsessing over Lenalee, while Lavi watches from a distance with Bookman at his side, the redhead sporting a mildly amused grin. The others—Kanda, Reever, and the Nurse—all watch with varying degrees of apathy or awkward happiness.

If Allen forgets about the fact that Cross, Road, and Sheril are all lingering in the corner, she would almost be willing to believe that the events of the past few months had been a long dream.

But she doesn't forget, and so the illusion vanishes. Once again, the eyes of everyone in the room snap to her. And of course, as she had expected, their gazes quickly drift downwards, the newcomers' eyes widening when they see the obvious protrusion on her abdomen. The Nurse doesn't look surprised per se, but her lips draw into a thin line.

For a second, Allen regrets not taking her master's advice. Any small progress she had made in terms of self-consciousness now appear to have gone by the wayside while she is under everyone's scrutiny.

What is she supposed to say now? Should it be just like before?

"Allen!"

Everyone is taken off guard by Komui's outburst, but the tense atmosphere doesn't burden his ecstatic gaze.

"You're looking well," he continues nonchalantly. "I almost thought you wouldn't come back until the very end; it's good to see you, though. In your condition, there's no doubt that it will make things a bit difficult for us, but I'm sure we'll be able to pull through."

 _Of all people…I didn't expect him to lift my spirits._ Allen normally associates Komui with stress, ever since she had nearly been murdered by one of his inventions. But the way he had just blown past her obvious pregnancy, as though it hardly mattered at all…it baffles her. Still, she supposes he is well known for being the most eccentric of all the scientists, so his behavior shouldn't shock her. Given the circumstances, though, it is a bit disconcerting for the young woman. "Um, thank you, Komui, but…what are you talking about?"

"Well, defeating the Earl, of course! I assume that you're going to help us—though we'll have to take precautions. You look like you're going to explode at any moment. It would help if the Nurse and I could take a look at you—and though this is off-topic, I must admit recruiting two other Noah to help us is not what I would have expected of the General, but I'll concur seeing as we aren't really in a position to be picky. Right, Reever?"

"Right," the Australian man echoes, an audible gulp accompanying his nerve-wracked voice. Evidently he isn't as self-assured as his superior—and neither is she, for that matter.

"Komui…you do know what's going on, right? With me, I mean." She holds her breath, fearing the thought of having to come out and say it again.

He arches a brow at her, a disbelieving look in his eyes. "You mean about you being a Noah? Of course I know! As the branch head, I've known for a while—right after you were locked up, in fact. Leverrier told me himself." The Chinese man crosses his arms. "And before you ask, I also know about you being impregnated by one of the other Noah. But since I don't know the circumstances, it isn't my place to judge you for that. You've always been an ally and a great friend."

Though Komui's words are a relief for the most part, her stomach turns when she feels the others' eyes snap to her, and not for the first time she finds herself cursing the Chief's lack of a filter. _Oh, no_ …

"A child of two Noah?"

The gravelly voice captures everyone's attention, and Allen unconsciously shrinks away from Bookman's deadpan stare.

"Say what?" Lavi interjects, sounding thoroughly confused. "What are you talking about, old man?"

"Something I have yet to teach you about," his mentor replies, "and at the same time, everything."

* * *

He is alone.

Well, as alone as he can possibly be, given the situation. There's no escaping what's in his mind. Just as he can't change his face, or his past, he can't change the fact that there is a dam inside of him fit to burst.

So he's never really _alone_ , not in the traditional sense of the word, but he had taken the first available opportunity to leave the other Noah. Seclusion seems to be his greatest comfort, coming a close second to being in Allen Walker's company…

And that's when he stops himself; this is exactly why he had decided to leave—to have time to clear his head, to gather his wits and regain control over his psyche. While the Earl waits patiently for Road and Sheril to return, he is determined to stay locked in his room.

It was her room, too, a long time ago.

He shakes off that last thought, hoping that his righteous anger at the Earl will be sufficient to distract him. Privately, he doubts the logic of the Earl's decision. What difference would it really make to wait for the two of them to come back? If they don't return, then all of this will have been a massive waste of time. In his opinion it would be even if the Earl's fears turned out to be unfounded; whether Sheril and Road decide to come back or not will hardly change the situation. They will either return with the white-haired girl or not do so at all.

Which does he want?

The only thing the Noah knows for certain is that Allen is at the Order, and this is sufficient to make him want to go to Headquarters immediately—by himself, if necessary. He isn't afraid of those guards, and he certainly isn't afraid of the exorcists. It's been a long time since his Noah has had this degree of control, and being forced to sit still is agony for him. He wants to find her, to cause her more anguish than what she had done to him all those years ago, and he doesn't care if he unleashes his rage onto others in the process—even if they are innocent, even if they had not been directly involved.

And there it is: the pain of betrayal, as fresh in his mind as if it had happened yesterday. So many years spent subdued, unable to even voice his bitter sorrow as it continued to choke him in his subconscious thoughts and actions.

" _I'm sorry, Joyd. You may not understand, but we have to do this_."

She never even came to him for help; no, she didn't trust him enough to do him that courtesy. Who knows what he would have done? He may have even slaughtered his own if she'd asked. While she had been everything to him, he had always been conclusively nothing to her—or if he ever was, it was only as how she saw the other Noah. (Besides the Fourteenth, of course.) He was nothing special.

And then she came along: a young woman, one who looked just like her, and only later did he realize that they are related by blood. It makes perfect sense, then, that his human side would become infatuated with her, his conscious mind unaware of the true origin and nature of his emotions: half-hatred, half-love. Even he had been fooled by it for a while, allowing guilt to consume his heart for how he had initially treated her.

That had been his last mistake—allowing her to get close enough to hurt him. Over and over again, she betrayed him, escaping from the Ark and later abandoning him in that city to run back to her precious friends.

So that's why he has to kill her—that's why he has to kill Allen Walker. It must be something to do with that family, and their loathsome ability to gain others' trust only to throw it back in their face. If he kills her, perhaps it will end some of his suffering; it will be like killing two birds with one stone, anyway, since she's possessed by the Fourteenth. If he were to hate anyone more than Ezra, it would be him.

He can see it now, the white-haired girl's face dripping with blood, her lifeless form splayed out on the ground before the others, the ones she calls friends but who had been unable to help her even once. He'll kill all of them, too. The Noah doesn't need to have the distractions of his human half remain; what he needs is to move on, to seek his revenge and start over anew. It's ironic, isn't it, that these same words are what Ezra had once said to him? That to move on is to grow, to mature and become the person that you were meant to be.

He doesn't know if any of this was meant to be—after all, he isn't one to believe in destiny—but one last time he'll do as she suggested.

This is why she has to die. He hates Allen Walker; he despises her with all his heart—her white hair and silver eyes and obnoxiously kind demeanor, her unrelenting determination and insistence on doing what's right rather than act selfishly.

He hates her.

He _loathes_ her.

He wishes that she were dead.

And at the same time, he loves her.

The Noah shakes his head, vigorously willing these traitorous thoughts to disappear. They persist despite his best efforts, eating away at him like a disease of the brain.

This is not what he had expected. In allowing himself to be taken over, he had believed that these conflicting emotions would be done away with. As it turns out, he had been mistaken. If anything, they have grown stronger; it's as if his subconscious is determined to express his human half's hidden emotions, regardless of whether or not doing so results in massive cognitive dissonance. Even now, the Noah can sense himself trying to rationalize his thoughts, all to no avail.

 _It's nothing_ , he hears himself think. _I don't need her. She's a liability. She's an enemy. My human side may be infatuated with her, but so long as she dies we will forget all about her. With time, it will seem as though she never existed…_

He doesn't need to be a genius to figure out how much of a lie this is, but it calms him down for the moment.

_What's so wrong with wanting her? There's nothing wrong with admiring her, is there? She's beautiful, certainly—she looks just like the Fifteenth did, but that's not why. It's not the same. Allen Walker sees me as an enemy, a threat, and I feel the same way about her. All of the time we spent together was nothing but a ruse._

_So, what? Were we just playing house that entire time? Pretending that everything was fine, that keeping her here was nothing more than a way to pass the time? Was she just a porcelain doll, beautiful but made for nothing else but decoration? A girl with no real substance, with no past? Did believing that make it bearable to see her face every day?_

It does—it did, at least. Now he isn't so sure. It's what he wants to believe, and what he even did at one point. But over time it had become something much more—something beyond even the scope of his Noah memories. The feelings won't go away. In truth, he cannot get these lingering images out of his head. If they mean nothing, if he really feels as though the young woman herself means nothing, then he should be able to ignore them. It should be easy. He isn't supposed to feel for someone like her, someone who is not only on the humans' side but also a traitor. He should be able to forge ahead without his memories of her holding him back, but instead he seems to be at a standstill. One moment he despises her, cursing her name and denying his very emotions, while in the next he is admitting to himself that he loves her. It's maddening.

But without fail, his mind always trudges back to the depths of his subconscious, peppered with reminders of her: her face, her voice, her body's warmth wrapped around his. None of this had mattered while he was with her; his existential issues had always seemed far away, almost ethereal. Neither of them had been bothered—not by the Order, and not by the Earl. It's only now that he's back, now that he can see the situation with a clearer head that he realizes how idiotic he had been. He had fooled himself into thinking that he could stay that way with her, while at the same time keeping both halves of himself—human and Noah alike.

Allen had seemed to notice his change in attitude as well—how he became more sensitive, more _human_ , with every moment he spent in her company, and she responded accordingly; she allowed him to touch her, to be close to her without fear of attack. It didn't matter to him that he was hurt by it, only that he was hurting her. In return for her misplaced trust, he allowed himself to favor his human half. Joined with her, he had never felt more at peace in the midst of war.

But it's hard enough to hold onto his light and dark sides as it is, and doing so while being with her had been near impossible—he's surprised it lasted as long as it did.

His stint of humanity is over. It's gone now. She took it with her when she left, and now all he feels is a hollow ache in his heart where she used to be. It doesn't mean his yearning for her has vanished; it just means that his bitterness has intensified.

He can't let go. He won't.

_Stop thinking these things. It won't do any good. We—I—have to kill her. I can't hesitate. I have to find my resolve and do it, even if it means I won't see her again. Even if it means she'll hate me._

_Even if means that the child has to die, too._

The first step to recovery, he knows, is remembering who he is, who he was before all of this mess began—when he was merely a Noah who worked for the Earl, a man who had been horribly betrayed by someone who he had loved and whom he had believed cared for him in return. But bruises only come in so many shapes, and the one she left behind would never heal so long as he kept denying its origin.

Heedless of his blurred surroundings, he shoots up from the chair he's sitting in and lumbers over to his wardrobe. He wrenches the doors open with a violent tug.

Black and white stares back at him from the hangers, and he sighs in relief at the familiar clothing. It's nothing like what he's wearing, what he used to wear when with his human companions. Right now, he needs something that resonates with his past self.

A few minutes later, with a final swish of his arm through a sleeve, and he's fully dressed. He glances down at himself, noting his excessively formal attire with greater ease. This is better. This is familiar. If this is to work—if he is to fully awaken and forget his feelings for Allen Walker, then he has to remake himself. He needs to change.

Does he, though?

An inkling of doubt plants itself within his mind, and the Noah hisses in pain.

He can't stop now.

He darts over to his bedside table, opens the drawer, and pulls out a spare ribbon. He runs his fingers through his hair, feeling the increased length with a sense of déjà vu. He notices that it's gotten long again, and with practiced fingers he ties the thick strands into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He can't shake the feeling that he's done this many times before, though never in this body, and never with the level of panicked hysteria that he feels in this moment.

And that's that. When he runs over to the mirror to face his reflection, he nearly does a double take. Staring at himself—for the first time in a long while, he might add—he can hardly believe that he is the same person from months ago. (There are those who would say he _is_ a different person, but that depends on who's asking.) With all his time spent in hiding, he had allowed himself to change both in appearance and temperament. Time can do a lot to his body, even if aging hardly affects him: his hair was able to grow longer and unkempt, and the disheveled exterior he reserves for his human form had blossomed naturally.

In short, he looks a mess. Yet if one forgets the lines of stress in his face and the restrained grimace on his lips, he also looks eerily similar to his past incarnation—in a bizarre way, with his long hair and fresh clothes, he could pass for the dead vessel's relative, or even his son. This should be a surprise in itself, but the realization is tempered by what lingers in the background, preceded by something far more ominous.

Standing behind him in the mirror, as he had expected, is the shadow of the Noah. He stands there, mockingly smiling with his crooked mouth and bulbous silhouette, and for once his presence serves as a comfort. If nothing else, he knows that it had been following him all along, an eternal companion that only death can separate him from.

Because that's the way it is; that's his fate: to die for the Noah's cause, whether they win the war or not—though with the way the Order is organized, the outcome looks optimal for the Earl. So it only makes sense that the Noah is always there, trying to coax him further into the darkness even while he had been with Allen. It's his natural state. There's no denying that, not anymore. Why shouldn't he give in? It would be so much simpler than continued resistance…

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, Allen Walker's face pops into his mind. Like she always does, he thinks sourly, the admission leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. He grins maniacally at his reflection, matching the Noah's features with perfect precision.

Then he frowns.

And then, without flinching, he pulls back his hand and thrusts it into the mirror.

With a devastating sound, the glass shatters, and hundreds of shards fall away in every direction. None of them cut him, but instead they pass through his body harmlessly before hitting the ground.

Another image flashes through his mind; Allen's face morphs into someone else's, someone with the same features but older, more mature, and with the unmistakable aesthetic of a member of the Noah Clan. She is just like Allen, but with dark skin and dark hair, and with a pair of piercing golden eyes to match. As a matter of fact, all of her features are exactly opposite the young woman's, pale white being traded for murky gray and silver for gold. The room around him changes, and for a brief second he is staring into the other woman's eyes— _Ezra_ , he recalls with a hint of spite. And then with sudden lucidity, he registers the pain, sharp and coming from deep within his abdomen, accompanied by the distinctive flow of blood…

The Noah gasps, but is immediately jolted out of the memory. He stares around himself as though lost, unable to put in context what he has just seen but knowing without a doubt that it had happened. It isn't a dream, and it is no hallucination—it is real.

_But I still can't remember it. Why can't I remember it? Why are so many memories of her so hazy? Why is that memory in particular so distant? No…I have to stop. I can't keep doing this, or else I'll be tortured by it forever. I know that she killed me—that's all I need to know. I've chosen my side; my loyalties should be clear. Which side do I truly prefer—human or Noah? I want both, but which one is the most important to me? Well…I suppose a better question would be which one causes the least amount of pain._

Without hesitation, he already knows the answer.

"Joyd?"

An apathetic voice filters in through his door, the sound bringing him back to full awareness.

"It's time," Wisely continues. "The Millennium Earl said that he's done waiting for Road and Sheril to come back. We're all going to go to the Order. He asked me to come and get you. Are you ready? You want to come, don't you?"

Wisely's bored tone doesn't get to him; he's so enthralled by this information that he hardly notices the other Noah's lack of concern. All that matters is that it's time for him to leave; the Earl has permitted it, and he's going back to the Order.

It's time. How long he's waited for this day, now that he finally has an opportunity to think about it…

"I'll be right there, Wisely," he says in a controlled tone. "Give me a moment."

"Okay. Hurry it up, though, will you? This place is starting to get boring."

His will doesn't falter as he tidies up the room, hiding most of the broken glass from view. His mind is elsewhere; right now it lies with the white-haired girl that he is knows is at the Order, waiting for him to arrive.

All he can think about as he follows Wisely out the door is that this is it—this is his chance to fix things, to get rid of everything in this life that is holding him back.

He will not fail this time.

* * *

"Does this hurt?"

"Not really. My feet are a little sore, though."

"That's to be expected. Pregnancy puts a great deal of strain on the body, even if we were made for it. It can be an ordeal, especially for one so young as you. I know that you're strong, though."

The Nurse smiles lightly, but the expression is tempered by her somber mood. Even if she tries to hide it, Allen can still tell that it pains the woman to see her this way. Whether it's due to the fact that she's a Noah or simply because the older woman feels sympathy for her is a moot point. The white-haired girl would rather not know which answer is the correct one.

"Even so," the Nurse continues, "I was still extremely worried for you while you were gone. Being so young, even if you are strong, I couldn't shake the feeling that something awful would happen."

"You mean like a miscarriage?"

Allen regrets speaking as soon as she opens her mouth; if the Nurse's pained grimace is anything to go by, then she had hit the nail on the head. She allows well-deserved shame to sink itself into her. Since when had she become so overly sensitive? The woman is only trying to help her, after all. That's all she had ever done, and no doubt she shares her own host of painful memories. She should apologize…

"Yes," the healer replies, no trace of malice or judgment in her tone. "Like a miscarriage."

The two women sit in the quiet medical wing for a few more minutes, the ticking of the clock the only sound that accompanies their rustled movements. The Nurse continues with her ministrations, which she had insisted upon performing as soon as everyone else had stopped talking. Allen had gratefully taken the opportunity after Bookman's remark, but now she is beginning to regret it.

She would much prefer to be alone with her thoughts.

The older woman periodically checks her vital signs and body for discomfort, catching up on all the time she hadn't been given to take care of the white-haired girl. Meanwhile, her patient sits in contemplative silence, her mind stuck on another matter entirely.

 _A child of two Noah_. The way Bookman had phrased it, as though it were something important, had rattled her. Yes, she is already aware that this is an unusual circumstance—and now, thanks to Komui, so does everyone else—but she had never believed that Bookman of all people would care. Then again, that old man always seems to know more than anyone else—which doesn't come as a surprise—so it only seems fitting that he would be the one to address the issue.

And what he had told Lavi makes the fact that she is pregnant with a Noah's child sound revolutionary, and only confuses her further. Surely it isn't that significant…but the way he had spoken about it begs to differ.

In any case, what had he meant? Is she reading too much into his words, seeing his mere curiosity as something more substantial than it really is? Or is it something else entirely? With her luck, coupled with Hevlaska's prophecy and her apparent ancestral conflict, Allen has a hard time believing that Bookman's reaction had been a coincidence. The Earl wants her, the Order hates her, and there are a select few who think that she's supposed to be the "Destroyer of Time."

How much stranger would it be if, by some stretch of the imagination, it turns out that her child is involved in this mess too? It wouldn't be, but the young woman will be damned if she allows another innocent life to be claimed by this century-long war. It isn't what she would have wanted for herself, and it sure as hell isn't what she wants for a child, regardless of whether said child is the spawn of a Noah or not.

_A child of two Noah…as far as I know, there has never been one before. I wonder what's going to happen…?_

Absentmindedly, Allen's arms curl around her stomach. The Nurse notices, and casts a sidelong glance at the young woman. "Allen-chan…I can't imagine what pain you must be feeling," she whispers. "I must admit, I feel almost ill-equipped to help you, but there's no one else at the moment who can—perhaps no one at all. This is beyond my scope of expertise. I may be a healer, but I'm not a therapist. I can't always read what you're feeling, especially so now that you close yourself off more."

 _Do I? I hadn't even noticed…but I guess that makes sense. Even though I trust the people here more than anyone, I still can't let my guard down—not with Leverrier and the Noah so close. I suppose I'm still paranoid_. She stays silent, allowing the older woman to go on.

"Anyway, that brings me to my point. I'll try my best to help you, dear, but you have to tell me what you want me to do. Do you intend to keep this child after it's born?"

Allen's brows draw together to form a frown. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" The Nurse clears her throat, pursing her lips sympathetically. "At this stage in your pregnancy, the child should be nearly fully developed. From what I can see from the outside, without further examination, the birth could be any day now. Of course, every woman's body is different, so this is just a rough estimate. As such, it would be unsafe for me to make any risky attempts to…end the pregnancy, so to speak."

It finally dawns on her what the other woman is saying, and her eyes widen in understanding. "Oh."

"I didn't mean to offend you," she quickly adds on, apparently realizing her poor choice of words. "I realize that sounded insensitive. But seeing as how I was never given the chance to ask you before, I want to know now if there's anything you want me to do after the delivery. Obviously I wouldn't kill him or her, but it's possible to make arrangements if you don't feel equipped to handle it. I'm in touch with several women who work at foster homes and with sterile parents, so I'm sure that I would be able to find accommodations."

Allen relaxes at the newfound understanding that the woman isn't suggesting infanticide, but there's something else bothering her as well—something about what the Nurse says, about the offer she's making. Essentially, she is providing a way for her to avoid the burden of unplanned motherhood, a way to retake her life while not possibly ruining someone else's. Not possibly, Allen corrects herself—definitely. It's clear that if the child is born, it will be born into a world full of conflict, a world wholly unsuitable for someone of such a tender age. Many had thought that she was too young to become an exorcist, but at least she had been able to walk and talk by the time Cross found her.

What the Nurse is offering…is a way around all of that misery. A way to give her offspring some semblance of a normal life, especially if the child turns out to be an Accommodator. It's a fine decision, Allen thinks—and probably the most logical and intelligent one to make.

But there's still something about it that rubs her the wrong way. The thought of giving the child away, while tempting, is rejected by every fiber of the white-haired girl's being. It astonishes her how vigorously her mind denies the offer; it's as though doing such a thing would be the most horrid act she's ever committed.

Why?

And then it hits her.

" _I couldn't do it, Mana. It was just like_ her."

" _I got rid of it."_

Just like that, Allen understands. That's it; it has to be. It's the thought of abandonment, of her son or daughter either learning that they are adopted or growing up in an orphanage, and despising her for it. This possibility is what stops her from accepting the Nurse's offer. The idea that she could be anything like her own mother eats away at her, despite the fact that she knows this isn't the same. Her mother had voluntarily abandoned her, even while having the means and stability to raise a child whose only deficiency was that she had a deformed arm. While she can't entirely blame the woman, who had no doubt possessed her own history of past traumas, she ultimately had a choice.

She, on the other hand, is not only unsuited to be a mother, but is also one of the Earl's prime targets. Anyone who gets close to her will always end up paying the price if it means it will help the Earl find the Fourteenth. It's a risk that Allen knows she shouldn't take.

Indeed, the truth had never made itself more known than in this moment. Giving up a child, and even abandoning it, is not the same as shirking one's responsibilities. In many instances, it's the right thing to do for both mother and child. If there were ever a time for her to be selfless, it's now, when she's on the brink of bringing someone into the world whom does not deserve to be dragged into this conflict. She's finally being given the opportunity to save someone else, someone important, from the same kind of life she's had to lead up until now. She should take it.

But she can't.

She knows she can't, and it tears her apart to even think it, because she knows that it's not only her own insecurity that keeps her from saying yes. As much as she doesn't want to admit it…

…It's about Tyki, too.

It's always about him, isn't it? Ever since he had stormed into her life, the Noah never ceases to cause her torment, whether inadvertently or on purpose. (Most of it is inadvertent, but that doesn't make her feel any better.)

But that's not the point; right now, Allen isn't thinking about the past. If she does this, if she gives up the child, it may be the final straw. There's no doubt in her mind that this would completely and utterly destroy any scrap of humanity he has salvaged thus far. She knows that it's there, that his human self is hidden beneath his sadistic exterior. She has witnessed it herself on multiple occasions, and she can't stand the thought of him succumbing to his Noah side permanently.

If there's a chance that this child can save that humanity, then she'll take it.

"…I can't," the young woman says quietly, facing the wall with a dead-eyed stare. "I know I should, but I can't. It's not just about me anymore."

The Nurse frowns. "What do you mean?"

She bites her lip. "While I was away…I was with him. Tyki Mikk—the father of my child."

The older woman gapes at her. " _What_?"

"…He helped me escape from the Order. Of course I didn't trust him at first—I still don't, really, seeing as he's still a Noah, but…he seems different. He changed during the time that I had escaped, and he's still changing. I don't know how, but I can tell that his human half is struggling to break free. The more I think about it, the more it seems like…"

"Like what?"

"…Like he isn't the one who hurt me. I asked him that before, and he didn't answer, but it looked like he was in pain when I said it. It sounds ridiculous, like I'm making excuses for him, but it's true. His Noah is the one who hates me—not him. That doesn't make everything okay, it doesn't excuse his actions, and…it doesn't mean I don't feel pain anymore, I do, but…I can't hate him. It doesn't do anyone any good."

"I understand what you mean about hatred," the Nurse says, "but what does this have to do with the child?"

"Everything! Maybe if I keep the child, it'll be good for both of us. I believe—I hope—that it will bring him that much closer to humanity. I don't know if it'll work, but I have to try, don't I? It would mean one less enemy to fight against, even if he isn't an ally. As much as I want to make sure that the baby stays safe, I have to put the world first. Besides…it's a piece of him, too. If anything could hold any sway over him, it's his baby." _And me_ , her mind adds on, but she wisely decides to hold her tongue. She turns to look at the older woman, a small smile resting upon her lips. "I don't expect anyone else to understand, but this is what I want."

The Head Nurse, her face a mask of stoicism, stares back at the white-haired girl. A tight-lipped expression paints her features, leaving Allen in tense silence while she waits for the woman's definite rejection. But instead of arguing against her, the older woman merely nods, her slanted eyes full of hesitant acceptance.

"If you insist," she finally says, and Allen releases a relieved sigh. "You're right—I don't understand, but I don't need to. As your healer, the least I can do is try to help as best I can. Even if I can only harbor hatred for the Noah who hurt you, I also know that I can't make you do the same. It would be unfair of me to force my opinions on you, no matter how much I disagree with yours. In any case, hatred is a poisonous thing. It's probably healthier that you seem to have conquered yours. You always were stronger than most of us." She exhales. "In the meantime, would you mind if I did a closer examination of the baby? I wanted to get a better look."

Allen shakes her head. "Of course. I don't mind. Go ahead—maybe it'll even relax me to hear that everything's working alright."

She sits still once again, allowing the Nurse to set up her scant equipment.

"I'll have to touch your stomach for this, dear. Is it okay if I ask you to roll up your shirt?"

As soon as she white-haired girl does as she's asked, the door to the medical wing bursts open, nearly giving her a heart attack. She freezes, her belly exposed as all the others waltz into the room—and it really isn't a welcome surprise. Cross, Lenalee, Lavi, and Kanda all shuffle into the room, but she's at least thankful that Sheril has decided not to show his face. As for the others, they're all probably busying themselves with cleaning up their respective stations. (Or in Bookman's case, his room.)

"W-What are you guys doing here?" she splutters, self-consciously eyeing all of them. She resists the urge to pull down her shirt, knowing that the Nurse would most likely not appreciate being interrupted while working. On the many occasions that she had been, there was always hell to pay by the offender.

"Don't look so spooked," Cross says in a bored tone. "They have something to say. Lenalee here insisted that they come and tell you in person. I did try to stop them—don't give me that look! I'm not lying. You're not the only one who's afraid of angering the Head Nurse."

"Then what do you call this?" the older woman chastises them as she takes a seat beside Allen with her various instruments. "I won't kick you out, but make it quick. I'm sure Allen-chan doesn't want everyone staring at her right now."

_You can say that again._

Allen's eyes flit over to the Chinese girl, who wrings her hands in apparent shame as she meets her friend's gaze. Kanda and Lavi avoid eye contact entirely, though the young woman can tell that Lavi is only doing it out of a sense of modesty. (Quite frankly, she hadn't believed until now that he possessed any.) On the other hand, she's well aware that the samurai is having an especially difficult time averting his eyes. Perhaps he's doing it out of pride; it wouldn't surprise her.

 _At least he isn't glaring at me…though this actually might be worse, come to think of it_. She swallows the lump in her throat, jumping a bit when the Nurse presses down gently on her stomach to begin her examination. Though the situation is awkward with everyone present (not that Cross seems to mind) it's definitely not the worst position she's ever been in.

"What is it you wanted to tell me?" She presses for answers, depending on the logic that Cross would not have let them in here if they had negative intentions—and in any case, their respective expressions are far from being malicious. When no one responds, she smiles comfortingly. "I know that today hasn't been the greatest, but you guys can still talk to me, you know. I'm all ears."

Lenalee grins at that, her big eyes shiny with tears of…what is it? Sadness? Relief? Regret? Allen reasons that it could even be a mixture of the three, but brings that thought to a grinding halt when her friend starts talking.

"Well, Kanda, Lavi, and I…we wanted to apologize for earlier," she says. Her lips twitch with the effort of maintaining her fake smile. "We shouldn't have reacted the way we did, especially because of your condition—not that we're mad about that, anyway. We all talked about it, and Komui told us everything that went on behind the scenes while you were gone. We thought about it, and it made us realize that it doesn't matter. Whatever happened…we won't judge you for it, okay? I know that's probably why you were hesitant to tell us, and we want to make sure that you know where we stand.

"Anyway…we're sorry. I…I don't want to make any excuses for myself, but all I can say is that we were shocked by what you told us. We've spent so long fighting the Noah along with you that it caught us off guard…but that shouldn't matter. It _doesn't_ matter, and it doesn't excuse the way we reacted when you told us. We're your friends, Allen-chan. We should have been supportive from the beginning, even if Leverrier has declared you an enemy for running away. Just know that while you were gone, we never lost hope that you'd come back. We've known you for a long time, and we do trust you—even if it didn't seem like it earlier. We'll keep fighting with you, because in all the time you've been away, you never stopped fighting for us. You came back here to save us the second you knew we were in danger—what kind of friends would we be if we abandoned you now? You never doubted us, so we should do you the same courtesy. You trusted us enough to tell us your secret, and for that you'll always be one of us—even as a Noah."

Allen barely registers the Nurse's hands on her abdomen as Lenalee gives her speech; she's too busy staring at the others, wondering cynically if this is just a dream. She blinks once, her eyes wide and aghast at the overwhelming support she hears coming from the Chinese girl's mouth. And when the short-haired girl finishes, she sends her a clipped smile, her own eyes radiating hope that her apology will be accepted.

And of course it will; this is what Allen had wanted from the beginning, after all. She reads the honesty on Lenalee and Lavi's faces, and while she still can't tell what Kanda is thinking, she knows from earlier that he doesn't blame her.

That's more than enough for her.

"Guys…" she begins, at a loss for words; she grins. "…Thanks, but…you don't have to apologize."

Lenalee beams at her, and the redhead sends her his trademark grin. (Kanda, as she had expected, remains painfully stoic.) Right when she's about to say something else, most likely a quip about the Japanese man, she jumps at the sensation of cold metal being pressed against her skin.

"Ah!" she exclaims, eyeing the stethoscope with mild irritation. "That's cold, Nurse! Mind giving me a heads-up next time?" she asks jokingly.

When the woman doesn't answer right away, Allen grows concerned; the Nurse's expression becomes pensive as she listens to the device, and her brows furrow in slight confusion.

"Is something wrong?" Allen asks nervously, pinpricks of anxiety already forming in her gut.

"Not necessarily," the older woman answers as she moves the cold object around a bit more. "It's just that…the baby's vital signs are off the charts. I've never felt such a strong heartbeat before. I suppose you could say that's a good thing, but it just caught my attention for a moment. It could also be due to an error with my equipment, but…" She trails off, and uses her unoccupied hand to feel around the swollen skin. "There's something else off about it too, but I can't say for sure what it is. It's as though there's something odd about the child, but I can't quite pinpoint the source…"

**It's time.**

Without warning, Allen folds in on herself, her spine curling forward as a spike of pain washes through every vertebra. She gasps and places her head between her knees as the agony flows through her, settling into a pronounced ache in the pit of her womb.

_What is this? What's happening to me…?_

A dull throb makes itself known, and the young woman cries out again as her body contracts once more; she can hardly control the motions, as though her whole being is a puppet controlled by strings of reflex.

"Allen?!"

Several people call her name at once, among them Kanda and Cross. She pays them no mind, not even to reassure them that she is okay—because she isn't. Even she doesn't know what's going on.

But at the same time, she does.

She forces her eyes shut, feeling suddenly nauseous as she realizes what's happening to her.

 **It's time** , Neah says again, his long absent voice much clearer this time around.

"Allen-chan? What's wrong?"

The Nurse is kneeling before her, her voice awash in concern. The white-haired girl opens her eyes, sure that they are filled with as much pain and fear as she feels.

"The baby," she gasps. "It's here."


	38. A Giving of Life

In retrospect, that first bout of pain doesn't seem so bad. It had taken her by surprise; that's probably why she had reacted so horribly, not to mention that it felt much different than getting pummeled by an Akuma. Even getting stabbed in the eye by Road's candle hadn't hurt as much—it's a sharp, roiling pain deep within her gut, propagated by the repetitious contractions of her lower body.

Is this how it's supposed to feel? Maybe, but all she is sure of is that she wants it to come to an end. But even with the highly unpleasant sensations racking her bloated body, Allen knows that this pain certainly can't compare to how she feels mentally. Anyone else her age would have been in the same boat.

What is she supposed to do, how is she supposed to feel, when all of a sudden she's being told that it's time for her to give birth? Not only is she young, but she's inexperienced; she's never witnessed a birth before, and she not only feels but _is_ wholly unprepared for what's going to happen. Sure, she has read books that touched on the topic before, random texts and journals that she had picked up once Mana had taught her to read effectively, and some of them had described birth—but the young woman still has only a very vague idea of what the process actually entails. (Aside from the physiological functions, of course. Those make her sweat just thinking about them.) She fervently hopes that it isn't like some of the more graphic writings made it sound, like a living hell that lasts for hours at a time and oftentimes ends in the mother's death. She has every confidence that the Nurse will keep her alive, but the idea of writhing in agony for an extended period of time doesn't appeal to her.

It all comes down to one thing: time. Allen had always believed, had allowed herself to believe, that she would have more time to find out, to learn.

But as always, things never go as planned.

* * *

Her water breaks—at least she thinks that's what happens, according to the Nurse—a few minutes after the first bout of pain starts, and shortly thereafter the sensation intensifies. After getting cleaned up and changed into a patient's gown, the older woman allows the white-haired girl to hobble back over to the cot.

Allen can only stare in subdued panic at her stomach as she lies down on the bed, her ears ringing and forehead sweating in time with the throbbing in her lower half.

 _Should it be hurting this much already? It feels like something's trying to claw its way out._ She resists the urge to yell in pain, and instead resorts to clenching the sheets in her hands. "Nurse," she says, her voice strained. In her state, she seems incapable of forcing out anything else. "Nurse."

There's no one in the room but the two of them, and suddenly it feels very empty. "Where…are the others?" she hisses, biting her tongue to avoid exclaiming.

"I asked them to help," the other woman replies as she bustles around the room, dragging all sorts of intimidating equipment to rest beside her patient's bed. "Right now Lenalee and Lavi should be fetching supplies. This is so short notice that I haven't had time to prepare at all. I'm sorry, dear. Bear with me. It'll be over soon."

 _Will it?_ Allen squeezes her eyes shut against the noise and unbearable brightness of the lights, hoping that in the process it will also relieve some of her discomfort. "Okay."

It's not okay, not at all, but she doesn't say so. It won't help her situation, it won't make the Nurse (or Lenalee and Lavi, for that matter) move any faster, and it won't make what's happening to her any less foreign and painful. She knows from what little knowledge she has (and common sense) that she should try to relax as much as possible, but that task seems laughably outrageous at the moment. How can anyone relax when there's a baby inside of them trying to force their way out?

Still…she should at least _try_ , for the baby's sake if not for her own. For a few seconds, closing her eyes does help alleviate her ache somewhat; it blocks out most of the overwhelming sensations, allowing Allen to take deep calming breaths that help refocus her energy on maintaining a relaxed posture. She even finds herself sinking into the mattress beneath her, the familiar softness and scent enveloping her with ironic comfort.

But then it's all for nothing. With astounding force, a second wave of agony hits her, and the stark discomfort in her lower half becomes ablaze with an excruciating pulse.

She can't help it; she groans out loud, drawing blood from her lip when her teeth bite down on the sensitive skin. Her lower back arches slightly off the bed, surprising even her with the fact that it can still lift her weight.

"Allen-chan?" the Nurse asks, the sound of her voice hovering above the young woman's head.

Though she knows it won't do any good, Allen can't think of anything else to say. "It hurts, Nurse. It doesn't feel right…"

"I know, dear…"

 _No…you don't understand. This doesn't feel right. There's something wrong_ …

A blurred haze spreads over her, and the Nurse's voice echoes strangely in her ears. Her eyes are closed, and this combination of blindness and disorientation gives her the impression that she is lost in a dark cave. She groans again as the pain magnifies.

Allen can hear other voices join the Nurse's, can detect Lenalee's concerned cries and even Lavi's anxious stutter. If Kanda is in the room as well, he doesn't say anything, but she more or less expects this. She has no idea where Cross is, and she can't decide whether to be glad that he can't see her like this or upset that he isn't even bothering to stick around…but then again, it could be that he's lurking in the corner of the room, watching everything that happens around him but without speaking a word.

And no matter how much she tries to fight it, Allen cannot restrain the urge to wish that someone else were here as well. She had thought that he would be present when she went into labor, but now he's nowhere to be found, and the white-haired girl cringes at the thought of what he might be doing. It's a ridiculous thought given her current position, but she can't help but wonder nonetheless.

Where is Tyki?

When she left he had been distressed, and from prior experience Allen knows that a distressed Tyki—or any Noah, for that matter—is usually bad news for the humans around them. She only hopes that he hasn't resorted to killing people to vent his frustration in the same way he used to. Surely all the progress he had made couldn't be for nothing, could it?

But still, the white-haired girl has a hunch that regardless of where he is or what he's doing, she will see him again soon. It could be that he's on his way right now; he had been intent on stopping her from coming in the first place, so it makes sense that he would come after her. He's most likely hindered in his movements by a lack of adequate transportation. She feels slightly guilty about that, but now is not the time to think about it.

She should be preoccupied with other things.

With a stab of discomfort in her abdomen, she releases another low-pitched groan. The voices around her begin to roar, each drowning out the others until they become an indecipherable cacophony to her ears. Her senses aren't diluted, but amplified to an unbearable degree, much like they had initially been the few times she had allowed Neah to take over…

_Stop…_

Another twinge of pain lances through her, and Allen does her best to grit her teeth against it.

It's no use, though, and deep down she had known that it would be.

As the agony in her whole body peaks, she releases a strangled scream.

* * *

It doesn't take long for him to leave the room after the Moyashi starts screaming; those cries are getting to him, as much as he doesn't want to admit it, but his feet still stubbornly refuse to move him farther than a few feet from the door.

Kanda paces back and forth down the hall, his slanted eyes flitting every so often towards the door to the medical wing. His arms are stiff, folded rigidly across his chest as he listens to the sounds emanating from within. Lenalee and Lavi are still inside, most likely helping the Nurse, while Cross remains leaning against the wall across from him.

The General doesn't say anything, and the samurai doesn't try to prompt him.

From inside, the young woman releases another strangled moan, and Kanda feels his nails digging into the flesh of his palms. He'll admit that he knows next to nothing about the birthing process, but is this normal? Are the women in labor supposed to scream this much this early on? The Nurse sure as hell isn't telling them anything, and the Japanese man is extremely close to losing his temper. He already would have were it not for the lingering thought that it would lead nowhere; it would only make things more difficult for the white-haired girl. He could always take out his frustration on Cross, but that would most likely be less productive. The man never reacts to him, and if he knows Cross at all then he would see right through his defense.

Just this once, Kanda decides to cut his losses. After everything, especially how he had cornered Allen earlier, he supposes he should at least be a bit more patient. Right now all he can do is hope that everything works out okay, a thought that pisses him off and eats away at his last nerve.

_What the hell's wrong with me?_

"Kanda-san? General?"

He whips around faster than he would have believed, his hand already on Mugen's hilt by the time he spies the intruders. The woman standing in front of him lets out a shriek and presses herself into the man beside her—who, he notices, doesn't appear to be any braver than she. He recognizes them instantly, and allows himself to be furious for a moment that they had caught him off guard. Then with a glare and disgruntled scoff, he turns away and sheathes his katana.

"It's you two," he mutters. "So you're finally back, are you?"

Miranda—he thinks that's her name—is still hiding behind Krory, but she tentatively pokes her head out to stare at him. "Y-Yes," she stutters.

"We didn't find any Innocence on our mission, unfortunately," Krory says, nervously eyeing the samurai. "Apparently it was just an unsubstantiated legend. But we did come into contact with General Tiedoll. He and Noise Marie have been trying to contact the others here, but no one's answered. He told us that he was going to return to the Order soon. Is—"

Both newcomers freeze when Allen releases another bloodcurdling scream, and they stare at the door in abject horror.

"W-What was that?" the vampire asks, his voice shaking with anxiety. "Who's in there? What's going on?"

Kanda sighs. _They had to find me, didn't they? I guess Cross isn't going to say anything…where are those Noah when you need them?_ "There isn't really any time to explain," he says, "so I'll start off with this: The Moyashi's back, and she's in labor."

"…"

"…"

Their dumbfounded expressions aren't lost on him, but he's not going to be the one to answer the barrage of questions they undoubtedly have. A few more seconds pass, and finally Miranda seems to recover her voice—for the most part, anyway.

" _What?!"_

* * *

Where am I?

_She's been asking that a lot in the past few months, it seems, so much so that she is starting to wonder if it possesses the same meaning as it used to._

What…what's happening?

_Is she really Allen Walker? She knows that she used to be, that she still considers the identity Mana gave her to be her true one, but has that changed? She's changed. It only makes sense that she would start to lose sight of herself after a while._

_But still…something about this situation doesn't feel right._

I thought…I thought I was back at the Order…

_Her surroundings are a blur of light, sound and color becoming blended as though being run through a strainer. Several buildings breeze by her, but none of them are tangible. They're blobs of bleached pale material, their edges blurred and possessing no distinguishable characteristics. It's as though the world around her isn't even real, yet at the same time it seems so familiar._

_Why?_

_As her surroundings fly past her, it dimly occurs to Allen that she is running. She can't feel her legs moving, but she can see the tops of her feet in the periphery of her vision, can see the world bounce as she darts frantically through the street. There's someone else with her as well, someone who is running a few feet ahead of her. He looks familiar too, eerily so, donning a head full of wavy curls._

…Neah?

_Confusion doesn't begin to cover how the white-haired girl feels when she sees the Fourteenth Noah. Among the many thoughts that run through her mind are internal demands to know what's going on, but of course she can't ask him that. Her mouth is not under her control; she's powerless here._

_Is that it, then? She's reliving another memory? Right now? Why? Of all the times, why is she being shown this—whatever it is—now? She had thought that…_

_Horror dawns on her as she recalls her last valid memory—back in the real world, in the present, she is in the medical wing of Headquarters, going into labor with her child._

_So why on Earth is she reliving one of her Noah memories now? Had the distraction of pain caused her to lower her guard, allowing Neah to take over? Of all the times, why would he choose now to overwhelm her? Is it out of his control? Allen reasons that this must be it. There's no other explanation, but if she focuses hard enough, she should be able to overcome the Noah's pull and get back to reality._

_But then she stops dead in her tracks when something else occurs to her: She might be reliving one of Neah's memories, watching from within as he lives out his past life…_

… _but she is not Neah._

Wait a minute…what's going on here?

_In all of her previous memories, she had assumed the point of view of the Fourteenth, living out all of his memories through his perspective, with his eyes. But now…it's as though she's watching from the outside looking in, as though she isn't Neah at all, but some stranger. And if she isn't Neah…_

_Who is she?_

" _I can feel one of them."_

_Allen hears herself speak, and is shocked when the words come out sounding just like her. It isn't exactly the same—this voice has more of a calming quality to it, a soothing tone that relaxes the listener—but it's undoubtedly similar. If she had to state the difference, the white-haired girl would say that this voice has more charisma._

" _Who is it?" Neah asks without turning around to face her. "Can you tell which one it is and where he's at?"_

" _Joyd," she quickly responds. "I think he's…oh, God…he's at the house…"_

_With a sudden pang, the young woman realizes exactly who she is in this memory._

I'm…Ezra? But…how can that be? How can I have her memories too, unless…unless I'm the host for the Fifteenth? But that's impossible, isn't it? Two Noah can't inhabit the same host at once, can they? This has to be some mistake…

It has to be.

_Allen is pulled out of her stupor when the pair's trajectory changes. The two of them veer off of the path, cutting across a small lawn and running towards one of the houses. This one is clear, with sharp edges and a humble size. She presumes it to be Ezra's. It's nothing special, just as Cross had described, but the fact that it's her family's old house resonates with the white-haired girl. A hint of nostalgia—for what, she isn't sure—runs through her, but she casts that thought aside when they enter the house._

_She will never forget the scene that awaits them inside._

_Horrifying doesn't even begin to cover it; it doesn't do the grotesque nature of the scene any justice, but privately Allen thinks that it's a good place to start._

_In the center of the living room, slouched against the wall that greets them upon entering, there is a dead man—but not just any dead man. Through the massive amount of blood that stains his clothes and hair, flowing down his face and pooling on the carpet beneath him, Allen recognizes him. With his glassy eyes and shock of red hair, she knows that this is the very same man she had seen in one of Neah's memories._

_Ezra's husband._

_And now he's dead, torn apart by someone who could only have one identity. She knows who it is even before she sees the killer move out of the corner of her eye. His face will be permanently burned into her memory; she's sure of it. Covered in blood up to his elbows, he casts the pair a crazed glare. He hadn't even bothered to avoid getting his own clothes dirty, something that had always struck Allen as being a bizarre mannerism of Tyki's—at least in his Noah form. He hadn't seemed to care much as a human._

_And this makes the current situation seem all the more precarious—and Allen already knows how it will end._

_Joyd steps into full view, exiting the shadows to stand in the partial sun that leaches in through one of the windows. His eyes retain an icy expression, his demeanor matching that of a predator's, but he also looks noticeably conflicted when they land upon Allen. No, not Allen—her grandmother._

_Her eyes, on the other hand, are resting on the dead man huddled on the floor in front of her, on the husband who had been cruelly murdered by one of her fellow Noah. Caught between him and the current menace._

_The silent standoff finally ends after a few moments._

" _You killed him," Ezra says. Her voice is flat and toneless, but she can feel the woman's jaw shaking. Beneath it all, she can feel her heart slowing in her chest, a painful ache accompanying it. She raises her eyes to Joyd's, and the white-haired girl notes that he appears to be taken aback. Is she crying? On second thought, she might be; that would explain the moist trails running down her cheeks. "You actually killed him…why?"_

_It's only for a brief moment, but Allen swears that the other Noah's eyes betray his guilt. For one horrifying moment, she is reminded of Tyki, and of what she had said to him when she escaped from the Order. She recalls the regret he had expressed, even when it had not been intentional. Now, Joyd's body language says the same thing—but it's only for a second, and the emotion is gone as soon as it arrives. In its stead is a cruel mask, nothing but the utmost contempt for her question and for the man he had slain._

" _Why?" he repeats. "After everything, you're asking me why? What right do you have? All this time, you two have been involved with these humans. It seems you've even set up a life with one, Ezra. I'm a fool for not noticing your treachery sooner! Look where it's gotten me! You two killed everyone, our entire family! It's a miracle I managed to get away—you've betrayed the Noah Clan in the worst way imaginable! Why?" His last word is a derisive hiss, a pitiful and ill-fated attempt to reason with reality, to make sense of a situation that has none in his eyes. Allen can see his hidden emotions beneath his golden orbs, not only the anger he expresses but the pain and betrayal he no doubt feels._

_She's sure that Ezra can feel it, too…as well as the lingering shreds of love he still has for her._

" _Why?" the woman repeats. "It's simple, Joyd. We did it for love."_

"… _Love?"_

_Allen has no choice but to stare at the wall as her temporary host turns her head away. "Yes. Love. I know you understand what love is, don't you? Even with your selfishness, I know that you've felt it before. However, you may not understand this, seeing as your only true family is the Noah Clan. As a human, your host didn't have any relatives—no parents, no siblings, no children, no spouse…no purpose. I'm sure that being given a family, no matter how dysfunctional, and a set of empowering abilities was more than you could have hoped for._

" _But what about us? About Neah and I, who had some of those things already? Neah has a brother, a human brother, and he was even an exorcist before he awakened. As for me, I lived my life in peace, along with my husband and newborn daughter."_

" _Daughter…?" he echoes dumbly._

_She ignores his inquiry. "Tell me: if someone suddenly came along and told you that you had to hate a certain group of people, a group that you used to be a part of and whom everyone you care for still is, could you do it? Would that change anything about how you felt for them? It's easy to turn your back on people who never looked at you, but I'm afraid it's not like that for us. Could you promise to kill your lover with no remorse? Could you slit their throat and not fathom the pain of doing it?"_

_As she talks, Joyd begins to look more and more dumbstruck. His hands clench at his sides, and his face contorts into a mask of impotent rage far too similar to the expression she has seen on Tyki multiple times. But still, that undertone of sadness remains, bolstered by the realization that her words are true—for her, at least._

" _That is what the Earl asked of us," Ezra concludes. "He has no regard for any of our lives, at least not for the human ones we're supposed to abandon. As Noah, we are family—but as humans, we are his mortal enemies. I can't stand to live such a two-faced existence, being forced to kill those I care for merely because he wishes it. Can you?"_

_Allen doesn't know what Ezra was thinking in that moment. No matter how personal this experience is, she can't hear the woman's thoughts. Was she trying to convince Joyd to join her and Neah, even while knowing how much he hated the Fourteenth? Did she believe that he would listen to her, that she would be able to persuade him to abandon the Earl's cause in favor of saving humanity? It seems too idealistic for her to believe, based on what little she's seen of her grandmother, but Allen can't say for certain what Ezra had expected._

_Even so, the white-haired girl is more or less able to predict Joyd's response._

_Yes, even though she knows what's coming, even though she is ultimately aware of how this day will end, it doesn't make her heartache go away. Maybe it's because he resembles Tyki so much in demeanor, but it hurts when Joyd glares cruelly at her. More than she had believed possible, it cuts deep into her heart._

" _Yes, I can," he says, his voice screaming "danger" to anyone perceptive enough to hear it. "If the Earl wishes me to do it, I have no choice in the matter."_

"… _I'm sorry to hear that, Joyd. I truly am."_

_He hesitates, an internal war written across his face like words from a book. "So am I."_

_He moves fast, faster than Allen had expected, but it doesn't surprise her considering his ability._

_What does surprise her is that she is not his intended target._

_Instead of diving for Ezra's throat as she had foreseen, Joyd breezes right past her, aiming for the other bystander in the room._

" _Neah—"_

_The world becomes a blur of color as the woman springs into action, her view turning upside down; for a few tense seconds, Allen is incapable of discerning what is happening around her, and though she knows she couldn't have done anything anyway, it still unsettles her. She hears the audible crack of furniture, the shattering of glass as one of them—probably Neah—destroys the window in the hallway, but the falling debris shields her eyes from seeing exactly what is going on between the two battling men._

_This temporary blindness doesn't seem to bother the Fifteenth, for she manages to right herself not long after. But from Allen's perspective, it takes a lifetime._

_The first clear image she can make out is of Neah, his lips pulled back into a snarl as he dodges a deadly swipe from Joyd, whose nails barely graze the skin of his cheek. An inch lower and a bit closer, and he might have been able to take out his windpipe. A drop of blood escapes the wound, and the assaulting Noah's face lights up with giddy excitement as the scarlet liquid flies past his own cheek._

_For a moment, Allen feels true fear of someone else—but not of Joyd._

_Of Neah._

_She had always subconsciously feared the Fourteenth, wary of his mystery and his intent, but seeing him fight against one of his own brethren is enough to fully display his iron resolve. There is no remorse on his face, no trace of brotherly regard in his eyes, and it even looks as though he is partially enjoying the fight, paying no mind to his near-death experience seconds prior._

_Joyd, on the other hand, looks as crazed and furious as Allen had come to expect, but this time there is a gleam of true insanity within him. The lopsided grin he sports tells all, and the young woman momentarily questions the sanity of her own grandmother for having gotten involved with either of them at all. If she had been in Ezra's shoes, with no prior exposure to the world of exorcists and Noah, she would have run away the moment she learned of their existence, never mind having to save the rest of humanity._

_But then again, that would go against the Fifteenth's very nature, wouldn't it?_

Crack.

_One of the walls nearly caves in on itself as Neah slams his fist into it, a flash of light accompanying the hit. He barely misses Joyd as the other Noah sinks through the barrier, disappearing from sight._

_Momentary silence encompasses the two of them, punctuated by Neah breathing raggedly in what Allen guesses is an attempt to calm his nerves._

" _Neah," Ezra says, her voice as calm and composed as ever. "Get ahold of yourself. You won't beat him with anger. That's his specialty."_

" _Get off my case," he bites back, a vicious glare scanning every wall for a trace of the man who had vanished. "He has to die."_

_Allen never figures out what the woman had been about to say, because at that instant the world explodes._

_She misses part of what happens thanks to more of Neah's destruction, seeing only flashes of movement from several limbs as Joyd reemerges from beneath the floor. Neah strikes downward with his fist, shaking the house's foundation and spreading more shrapnel with the sheer force of his blow. He manages to clip the other Noah in the shoulder, and Joyd hisses as he darts away just in time to avoid what would have been a lethal hit._

_He rights himself quickly, balancing on both feet as he stares down the enemy before him. His eyes flicker, darting from the Fourteenth to the woman standing on the other side of the room. His gaze alternates between them, as though unsure of what to do in this situation or how to take advantage of his position. Though his main target is Neah, he seems to hesitate as he glances at the Fifteenth. Is he thinking about retreating?_

_Then, with little warning, Joyd turns and bolts straight toward her._

" _Stop!"_

_Allen's—or Ezra's, she supposes—heart beats wildly in her chest, but still her grandmother does not move. She doesn't even try to evade him, but merely watches Joyd's face as he approaches, his golden irises filled with cunning as Neah pursues him._

_And then, right before he reaches her, Joyd turns back around, slips to his knees, and rears back his outstretched palm. With a sadistic grin, he slams it into Neah's chest, his arm flexing as he clamps down on whatever is in his grip._

_For Allen, time freezes._

No…Neah! How could this be? How could Joyd kill him so easily, just by targeting Ezra as a distraction? He can't kill him…he can't. What…?

_In her confused stupor, it takes Allen a moment to realize what's actually happened. Though Joyd's hand is submerged in Neah's chest, the Fourteenth Noah doesn't cry out. His eyes are wide as they stare down at Joyd's wrist, but no sound or scream of agony escapes his lips._

_And that's when she feels it. The memory of pain, dulled and distant but still vivid, assaults her senses. It radiates in her chest, building up to an unbearable degree as the pressure around her heart intensifies. From within the woman's body, Allen hears her grandmother cough, a harsh wheezing sound that fills her with a sinking feeling; she feels it as warm liquid spews outwards from her mouth and onto the floor in front of her, can taste the iron as it rolls over her tongue._

_Blood. She's vomiting blood…_

What's going on? Why is she the one who's injured? Why…?

_Both men turn to stare at Ezra as she sways on her feet, scarlet oozing from her mouth and nose with increasing volume. All at once, it seems to dawn on them what's happened, though Allen herself is still confounded by this bizarre (and frightening) development._

_She had known that Ezra was going to die, but she had never dreamed that it would be like this…_

_Neah looks overwhelmed with shock as he stares at her, but Joyd…Joyd looks nothing short of horrified. At the precise moment she collapses, he removes his hand from within the other man's chest, and catches her just before she hits the ground._

_Allen's mind is blank, devoid of any rational thought but for vague confusion and the agony that burns within her chest. She hears Joyd's ragged breathing from above her, and finally her eyes refocus on his face._

" _Ezra," he says, panic evident in his eyes. "You fool…why did you…?"_

" _To save them," she croaks, her voice hoarse. "To save my family…what's left of them, anyway. To protect humanity…I had to save Neah." She pauses, her hand shaking as she brings it upwards from where it rests on her chest, now full of nothing but a crushed heart. Her gray skin is coated in red, and it drips onto her own face as she brings the bloodied palm to Joyd's cheek._

" _I'm sorry, Joyd," she whispers. "You may not understand, but we have to do this."_

_His eyes grow wide, but before he can make a sound he stiffens against her. Allen feels warmth flow into her hand, and from there into his skin. He suddenly looks strained, and with a harsh rasp a trickle of blood oozes out of the corner of his mouth._

_She looks away._

" _Why…?"_

_His hands go slack against her sides, and her breath wheezes from her lungs as she slides out of his grasp, cold hitting her back as she comes to rest on the ruined floor. Her own pain is alleviated somewhat, but at Joyd's expense. He tries to stand up, clutching his own chest as though he too has had his heart crushed, but fails miserably as he collapses on the floor beside her._

_Allen is struck dumb. Is this the Fifteenth's power? What is it? It looks as though all she had done is touch him, and his insides had begun to rupture in the same way as hers. And what about before, when she had been injured in Neah's place?_

_What is this?_

_She doesn't have much time to muse on it, as soon both her and the Noah of Pleasure lie splayed on the ground, surrounded by the rubble from the previous fight. It's over, Allen thinks as her vision starts to darken at the corners. This is how she died, only able to save a man who had been killed not long afterwards. Has there ever been a greater tragedy, of sacrificing yourself and your husband all for a cause that had been left unfulfilled?_

" _You killed yourself."_

_A halo is around Neah's head as he stares down at her, and distantly she hears Joyd's predatory hiss. Evidently he will remain hateful to his own death, but what else had she expected?_

"… _I did."_

" _You used your power to save me, but you're letting yourself die. Why?"_

_She laughs lightly, her frame shaking with the effort. "I'm weak, even for a Noah. I've already lost too much blood…I couldn't rid myself of this injury if I wanted to, especially since it was caused by dark matter. It's too late for me. All I can do now is make sure that we both die here…I'm sorry, Neah. I failed."_

" _We failed."_

_The weight of failure rests heavily upon her, even though Allen knows this isn't her life she's seeing._

_From where she rests, she can hear Joyd's strangled words. "The Earl is coming," he whispers. "He'll come, and he'll kill you, Fourteenth. You just wait…" His voice dies out, apparently unable to keep up his spiteful threats._

_A cold sensation forms in the pit of her stomach, but not because of Joyd—because of the high-pitched cry that sounds from a few feet away._

" _Mother? Father?" Small feet pad into the room, and the top of the child's head is barely visible from the woman's viewpoint. "Mother? Are you okay? Where—"_

The blood…

"… _.Father? What happened to you?! Mother!"_

_Suddenly Neah vanishes from her sight, and the audible tussle between him and the struggling child is punctuated by her panicked shrieking—and it's enough to break Allen's heart all over again. But somehow, Ezra is still able to speak._

" _Take her away," she whispers; Allen knows that Neah can hear her. "Take her somewhere safe. Make sure she grows up, so that one day her own child will come before you. I'll come back, Neah. We will meet again…and should the time come where you die as well, you must find my descendants. I give you permission…to use one of them as a host. Don't tear apart another innocent family. Promise me…"_

"… _I promise."_

_As her vision darkens for good, Ezra turns her head to the side, her eyes meeting Joyd's as he continues to stare at her with a mixture of conflicting emotions._

" _And you, Joyd…should forget me."_

* * *

Bloodshot eyes fly open wide as consciousness claims her, and all at once the pain in her chest is gone, vanished as though it had never been there—it's replaced by the one in her womb.

A scream finds its way out of the confines of her throat, and quite suddenly the white-haired girl is thrown back into the present. Honestly, she isn't sure if this is much better than the memory she had just left behind—but that could just be the anxiety talking.

"Allen-chan?"

Silver eyes find the familiar face of the Nurse, and momentary relief washes over her.

"Is the pain worse?" the woman asks. "You've been silent for a few minutes; I almost worried that you had fallen asleep."

 _A few minutes? That's all?_ "I can take it," she replies, her voice strained. "I can do this." Her legs, which have been bent at the knees all this time, are sore but resilient; they shake slightly as another bout of pain seizes her abdomen.

The Nurse nods. "I know you can. It's almost time now. I had Lenalee and Lavi go outside—the poor boy almost looked like he was going to be sick—but if you want someone in here with you I can send for them."

Allen starts to shake her head, but then stops to reconsider the woman's offer. The more she thinks about it, the more tempted she is to have at least one other person in here with her, especially considering her newest recollection. She'll be damned if he's going to sit this one out, even if he wants no part of it.

Then again, maybe watching her go through labor would turn him off of women forever—it would serve him right, she thinks as she smirks through the pain.

"Yes, actually," she says. "…Can you get my master?"

The Nurse looks baffled, but nods stiffly at her request. "Of course."

* * *

"I'm impressed. You haven't started begging for death yet, have you?"

The young woman scowls at Cross as he nonchalantly sits beside her cot, thinking that maybe he had been the wrong choice after all. His visible eye contains the same lax expression as always.

"Like I would," she grunts, more annoyed by his lack of tact than usual. The stress lines in her face are etched deep into her skin, and his statement causes her to recall her most recent revelation.

_Even he doesn't know everything about what really happened back then…this is important. I should tell him while I still have the chance._

"Master…"

A groan forms in her throat; her toes curl and her face twists as another wave of discomfort slams over her. The Nurse is sitting at the foot of the bed, and Allen thinks that she's trying to reassure her, but it isn't working. The white-haired girl tries to focus on Cross, even if it's just as a distraction.

"This is awful," she rasps as the initial pain ebbs; sweat beads on her brow.

"So I've heard," her master replies. "Don't ask me to hold your hand, though. A hand full of broken bones is the last thing I want."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Allen smiles sadly, her head digging into the pillow beneath her as she feels something within her start to give. And still, she can't help the feeling that something is missing.

Normally there is someone else here while the mother is giving birth—the father of the child, from what she understands. But this is far from a normal situation, and even if Tyki were here she isn't sure that it would make things any better…it would be a miracle if the others didn't kill him first. Just thinking that there's a part of her that wishes he were here makes her feel weak.

Still, as much as she doesn't like to think it, she is…alone.

* * *

She really does try to follow the Nurse's instructions, but it doesn't feel as though she's making any progress. Despite the woman's words of encouragement, all she can decipher is that the pain is becoming continuously worse, gnawing at her insides as the child inside her struggles to fight its way out. It's a morbid analogy, but she has a hard time comparing it to anything else. She hears herself crying out with intense growls as she brings herself closer to what feels like an aneurism. Surely all of the blood vessels in her eyes have popped by now.

Then, with one particularly intense contraction, a knife turns in her stomach, and with the howl of an injured animal Allen bites down on her tongue.

"She's bleeding," the Nurse says, forced calm in her tone. Allen hears her bustle about, cringing at the foul stench of her own blood on the air.

"This is…" she says breathlessly. _How do other women deal with this? Is it just me, or is this what birth is supposed to be like? I…I can't do this._

"Don't give up now, idiot," Cross reprimands her, and her eyes snap open of their own accord. Her master glares down at her, his eyebrow raised as if daring her to defy him.

"Master…"

"You aren't done yet. You didn't spend all that time trying to keep this kid safe just so you could give up halfway through, did you? I know that _I_ didn't help you escape just to watch you do that. I thought you were stronger than that. Was I wrong?"

Aghast, Allen shakes her head. He's right; though the pain is bad, it isn't the worst she's ever felt. She could have given up many times before this, but she had always bounced back from her misery. Even when she had been on the brink of insanity, even when she had thought she wanted to die, to give up, she never had.

Why should this be the thing that breaks her?

"You're right," she says. "I'll be fine. I'm not done yet. Besides, I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"

* * *

Allen loses track of time, and after a while she decides to stop asking about it. At any rate, she knows it's been a few hours—a few hours of the same monotonous routine. Though the pain is intense, she refuses to bite her tongue, and after some time she begins to focus more on the process itself.

Breathing slowly helps her, the rhythm providing something else to hold onto besides anticipation, and Cross's presence is oddly comforting as well—even if he doesn't say much to her. On occasion, Lenalee or Lavi will come in to check on her, the latter with a grotesquely green complexion.

But when the moment finally arrives, it's only the three of them—her, Cross, and the Nurse. Allen herself doesn't fully realize it when it happens; she feels a sudden emptiness, a release of weight, and almost immediately the worst of the pain begins to recede.

Even so, the young woman is confused at first—and more than a little worried. She's fading in and out, the sudden relief filling her with overdue exhaustion, but after a few seconds of silence she realizes what's going on.

_It's…it's over? Well, for the most part, I guess. I can't feel it anymore, so it must be. But…but it's completely silent. I thought newborns were supposed to cry…_

"Nurse?" she calls out, her voice lazy; the ceiling above her is blurred, but she still manages to form coherent words. "What's going on? Is it…okay?"

No one answers her, but she can feel them in the room, moving about as they stare at who knows what. Anxious beyond all rational thought, the white-haired girl shifts her body, craning her neck so as to see the woman at the end of the bed.

"Oh my God…"

The Nurse glances down at the bundle in her arms, and Allen does the same, worried about the pure shock she reads on the older woman's face.

_Is it…dead?_

She feels abrupt relief as the bundle shifts, a small whine emanating from the cloth-wrapped limbs—and then a tiny hand slips out, and she gasps as she catches a glimpse of its fingers.

The baby's skin…is gray.

* * *

From beyond the Order's walls, several pairs of footsteps approach, each with its own distinctive pattern. They move in unison, in perfect formation, with their leader at the head of the group.

Among them, there is one man in particular who stands out—whose aura is enough to make some of the others maintain a safe distance. A twisted grin mars his handsome face, the shadow of his Noah looming over his shoulder…

He pauses as they reach the base of the mountain, his eyes lighting up with primal excitement.

"Joyd?" Wisely calls from ahead of him. "What are you doing?"

The Noah straightens out his jacket before resuming his calm pace. "Oh, nothing, Wisely. I'm just excited, that's all."

"…You're going to savor this, aren't you?"

His evil grin grows wider. "Of course."


	39. A Child of Innocence

She's never been this far into the Order before, and Road finds it to be oddly anticlimactic. She had been expecting something more. In her mind she had pictured a more ostentatious place, one with extravagant decorations and features that she had come to associate with the Vatican. Of course the place is nice, but not in the way that she had foreseen.

Sure, it may also be a bit unnerving, knowing that she is in the lair of her long-time enemies, but at the same time it is fascinating as well—fascinating enough to convince her to split away from her adoptive father, even if it would only end up upsetting him.

After all, this is where the Fourteenth had lived before he had awakened for the first time. Anyone as close to him as she had been would be curious to see what it's like, and she hadn't had time to do so yet. Breaking into the Order to kidnap Allen Walker hadn't given her much opportunity for leisure.

The young girl thinks it must be fate that the Fourteenth Noah had turned out to be an exorcist. It's a cruel irony, but in a sense it's also the perfect situation, the ultimate affront to this world's twisted logic. With such immense power from both sides—both Innocence and Noah—surely he is the most capable person to bring down the Clan. Perhaps that is what the "God" everyone seems to talk about had intended.

Has the Noahs' time run out? Is this world finally rejecting them? Is it no longer in need of their existence?

But even if this were true, Neah had failed; even with Ezra's help and Road's promised silence he had been unable to stop the Earl, and now the child of two Noah is being born at the very moment she walks through the empty hallways. The young girl can't help but to think that this is no coincidence. No matter how much she may want to deny it, she can't help but wonder if the ominous feeling in her gut is justified. Perhaps, in the wake of Neah and Ezra's failure, fate saw fit to bring forward a new calamitous being, one who could end the Earl's reign once and for all.

It wouldn't surprise her in the slightest—and it would explain the hollow pit in her stomach as well. If things such as the Noah and the exorcists can exist, why can't this?

Her ears twitch, and Road glances downward with sharpened eyes. The sound of clattering metal is coming from a few floors below her.

 _Some of those Order officials, are they? Or maybe it's just the Finders. Either way, someone is trying to get out_.

There's only one way to find out.

She heads downstairs in pursuit of the noise, using her door to evade all of the collapsed walls and barriers she, Sheril, and Cross had set up; this way, the paths of any potential escapees will be blocked—not that it matters, anyway. She had raised a brow at Cross when he started putting up magical barriers to bar the paths, but she supposes it's better to be safe than sorry. Even if anyone did manage to escape, they would be quickly found and, if not first killed by Sheril, thrown back down with the others. She isn't willing to trust anyone else, especially considering that many of them despise all Noah. She doesn't relish the thought of any of them attacking Allen while she's defenseless, even if the others are there to defend her.

In particular, she mistrusts some of them more than others.

Road follows the clanging to the same cellblock Cross had been kept in during his captivity, smiling prettily at the irony of the situation for those locked in the cages. The two men standing behind the bars are not amused by this situation (unsurprisingly) and seem to grow even tenser when she appears before them.

_Good. At least they have common sense._

Her eyes dart back and forth between the two men, lingering on the one whom Cross had said imprisoned Allen in the first place. The General had come across as fairly nonchalant about it, but Road herself had taken such actions as a personal insult and locked him up accordingly.

It goes without saying that he is her least favorite of all the humans.

To her surprise, it isn't he who speaks up first; it's the other one, the man with the long golden braid and spots on his face.

"You," he says sternly. "Where is the Fourteenth?"

The young girl cocks an eyebrow at him. "Cutting to the chase, are you? Is that any way to talk to someone who's got you in a cage?"

"Answer my question, Noah."

Road crosses her arms impatiently. "I thought you'd at least ask me why I'm not killing you. So boring…did you just make all that racket so you could ask me about Allen-chan?"

The blonde man scowls at her. "Where is she? Have you killed her?"

"That's enough, Link. Can't you see she isn't going to answer?"

Road glances at the other man, now more curious than anything else; she had expected him to have no patience, but she is pleasantly surprised.

"…I'll answer," she says. "It's not like I have anything to hide. Why would I kill Allen-chan? I'm on her side…besides, from what I can tell, she's been in labor for a while now. The baby could have even been born already. But don't worry—her friends and the Nurse are helping her, I'm sure."

"What?" the first man gasps.

"…I see," the larger one—Leverrier, she thinks Cross had called him—says. His voice is eerily calm. "So you're on her side, are you?" His stern expression remains fixated on her, but it doesn't bother Road in the slightest. "I suppose that makes two of us, though you wouldn't know it. My intention was always to ally myself with the Fourteenth. After Cross told us what happened all those years ago, I made it my goal to do so even at the cost of my own position. The only reason I imprisoned her was to avoid any conflict and to keep her from running away like the first time the Fourteenth awakened. Believe this, at least: even if we don't personally like the Fourteenth, we are willing to work with her to defeat the Earl."

Road narrows her eyes. "Believe you, huh? That's a pretty big request to make after what you did. Why _should_ I believe you? It wouldn't be in my best interest." Her voice sounds partially playful, but anyone with half a brain would be able to tell that it's a front. Or maybe she's just overestimating them.

Or, as she realizes a moment later, maybe she's _under_ estimating them. For barely a second, Leverrier's pursed lips relax, and he shoots her what she supposes is intended to be a comforting smile. And, oddly enough, it doesn't look to her as though he's faking it.

"Is there supposed to be a 'but' after that last sentence?"

 _A bit cocky, isn't he?_ The young girl folds her arms, pausing to take a deep breath. "If I—" She suddenly stops, her voice catching in her throat when out of nowhere, the pit in her stomach widens. A familiar sensation grabs ahold of her, one that had never felt as ominous as it does right now.

"Is something wrong?"

_This is just perfect. Of all the times, why does it have to be now? The Earl wouldn't act so quickly, not unless he had been given a heads-up. What could have happened to make him…?_

… _Tyki._

Without responding to Leverrier's inquiry, she says, "They're here."

* * *

Allen feels it at the same time as Road does, but far more acutely than the younger girl, who is all the way in the Order's dungeons. Dread pools in her stomach like never before, and she sucks in a gasp that even causes the man beside to raise a brow in concern.

"What is it?" Cross asks her. His voice is stern as he watches her haphazardly toss the blankets away and stumble to her feet. (He doesn't try to stop her, she notices.) She just thanks her lucky stars that she had time to get back into regular clothes in the few minutes she had been awake, even if it is just an old exorcist cloak.

Either way, it will have to do.

"They're here," the white-haired girl whispers as the Nurse walks back into the medical wing; her voice is shaking. "He's here, too—the Earl."

"What?" The Nurse clutches the bundle of cloth closer to her chest, eliciting a small whine from the infant within (who still has yet to cry). Evidently the woman had taken the baby to be cleaned while Allen had been incapacitated; the visible gray skin looks cleaner, void of the smears of blood that had accompanied its birth. Its face is still concealed by the blanket, however, and Allen resists the urge to reach over and lift it away.

A pang of sadness hits her when she realizes that she hadn't even gotten to hold her own child yet, much less ask if it is a boy or a girl. She had all but passed out moments after giving birth, and now there's no time to do anything more. After everything she had gone through, she is unable to even have one moment to get to know the being she had carried within her for months on end, and with the way things are looking now, she may never get to.

_We'll…we'll never have a moment of peace, will we? As long as the Clan of Noah is around, our lives will be nothing but struggle…_

No. She can't afford to think this way, not with her child's life hanging precariously in the balance. She has to hold on, to continue hoping for a bit longer.

"The Noah are here? Are you sure, Allen?" Cross asks gruffly, bringing himself to his feet as well. "You can sense them, can't you?"

The young woman nods, cringing a bit as she feels them all get that much closer to where they are. One person stands out in particular, and she swallows the dry lump in her throat. "They're close…a bit past the base of the mountain, if I had to guess. And…they're looking for me. I know it. Nurse, you have to get out of here. You're not an exorcist; if they find you, they won't hesitate to kill you. Hide downstairs."

Though the older woman appears hesitant to do what she says, she nods at Allen and starts to make silent, hurried movements toward the door.

It's then that the white-haired girl remembers something else; Allen bites her lip as she eyes the blanket in the woman's grasp, and though it pains her to say it, she calls out, "Wait."

The Nurse glances back at her with a troubled expression. "What is it?"

"…Leave the baby here."

Cross doesn't look surprised, but the Nurse stares at her as though she's grown a second head. "Are you mad? You just said that the Noah are looking for you! Why would you—"

"I know…but they'll be looking for my child, too. There's no doubt in my mind that the Earl knows I was pregnant, and I'm sure he'd be eager to get his hands on the baby. And if they can sense me, there's no way they won't be able to sense my child." Allen sighs, her eyes moist as she glances at the shifting bundle in the woman's arms. "Please. I'll be fine, and you'll be in danger if they go after you. I'll take care of…" She trails off, suddenly at a literal loss for words. She has no name for her child, no gendered pronoun with which to refer to it.

The Nurse smiles sadly in response to her obvious predicament. "…She," she says. "It's a girl."

_She…_

With that, she steps over to Allen, who panics internally as she attempts to adjust her arms to the baby's unfamiliar bulk. It feels strange, but after a few moments she manages to cradle the infant in a relatively comfortable position. She glances down at the small bundle, the only visible body part being the lower half of her small face, with pursed lips and eyelids with long lashes that are almost completely hidden by the blanket's makeshift hood.

Even without prior experience with infants, she cannot help but to think that this one is beautiful despite her gray skin.

_And she's…mine._

A bittersweet feeling runs through her, and Allen hardly notices when the Head Nurse leaves, so caught up is she in staring at the child in the crook of her arm. She only distantly hears Cross telling her to stay put before he too sweeps out of the room, no doubt to go and alert the others of the imminent danger, or at least to check that the castle is relatively secure. She can't even find it within herself to care that the latter half of his actions is a moot point; even with the Order's thick walls, the Noah will have no trouble getting in. It had never stopped them before.

Her eyes stay glued to the tiny being in her arms, to the little gray-skinned girl who had been brought into the world less than an hour ago and who is already faced with the prospect of being caught up in a devastating battle.

_My daughter._

The white-haired girl is exhausted; she wants nothing more than to go back to sleep, but instead she finds herself pushing back the strip of cloth that covers her daughter's face, revealing more of the baby's features for her to see.

And, though the gray hue of her skin was initially alarming, it's nothing compared to what she sees when she lays her eyes upon the entirety of the child's sleeping face. Shock runs through her at the sight, and all at once Allen understands why the Nurse had been particularly hesitant to reveal it to her.

_How is this possible…?_

There, imprinted on the girl's forehead as plain as day, is the familiar shape of a cross, the very same one that decorates her own hand. It's nearly identical in shape, and it gives off a faint green glow that sends a shiver down the young woman's spine. A sense of déjà vu washes over her, and for a moment Allen almost feels as though she is going to be sick. A shaking finger reaches out to hover over the mark, and the subtle energy she feels radiating from it is enough to cause her hand to jerk back.

_It's…Innocence? She has Innocence…she's an Accommodator, just like me. But…what is her power? How did this happen? I've never seen a parasite type like this before..._

Is this what Bookman had been referring to? That the child of two Noah would be special somehow? Or perhaps it's just because it's her child; perhaps the combination of her and Tyki's Noah genes, along with her identity as an exorcist, had altered her offspring in a way that no one had thought possible. If there had been no precedent for a child like this, then anything is possible, isn't it?

Allen hardly has any time to think about it, for at that moment ice spreads through her veins, and the unmistakable presence of her enemies slips into the Order's halls.

* * *

All is quiet when they step into the main hall, their footsteps echoing ominously against the marble. Getting through the gate had been painfully easy; no one had even been guarding it, thanks to Road and Sheril, no doubt. He is almost disappointed by this, having wished that there had at least been some gutsy Finder or guard who would have tried to pathetically stop them from getting inside. Alas, no such thing had happened, but he can't entirely blame the two of them for it. At least they had made their task somewhat easier, even if doing so had not been intentional.

In any case, he is at least glad to finally be able to seek out his revenge.

As soon as Tyki stops and stands in the abandoned entryway along with the others, he is already itching to start his search for the white-haired girl. He can sense her; he knows that she is somewhere in this castle, concealed from his sight but not from his mind. It seems as though she is making a great effort to hide, not that he can blame her for it; there is no doubt in his mind that she can sense his hostility, and in her weakened state anyone would be wary of crossing his path.

However…there is something else that is bothering him. An odd presence nudges at the edge of his consciousness, distracting his attention from the matter at hand. He is alerted to the fact that something feels…off, but he can't quite figure out what it is. Is it coming from her? It feels like it is, but he can't be certain…

"Well, look at this, Father! Lord Millennium brought everyone here to see us!"

Eleven pairs of eyes turn to glance at the two figures standing at the end of the hallway, and out of reflex his muscles tighten. Though neither Road nor Sheril are tense, he readies himself for a fight if need be. Road notices instantly, and a brief shadow of concern passes over her face. It's gone just as quickly.

"Hello Road, Sheril," the Earl greets them, still in his deceptively cheerful tone. "It seems you two have acted preemptively, have you not? I don't recall asking you to invade the Order."

Road says nothing, but Sheril nods politely before addressing the Earl's statement. "Of course not," he says, "but we figured that it would be more beneficial to go in ourselves and take care of the matter quickly rather than involve the rest of you."

 _Liars_.

As if to confirm his thoughts, Wisely echoes them. "You're lying," he says blandly, sounding as though he couldn't care in the slightest. "I don't know about Road since I can't sense her thoughts, but I can sense yours, Sheril. What are you doing here?"

Even he is taken off guard by how suddenly his brother's eyes darken, as though merely a switch had been pressed. Then, as though nothing is amiss, he relaxes once again, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"I should have known I could never get anything past you, Wisely," he says in a playful manner. "You see right through us far too easily, after all—then again, perhaps that is your greatest flaw."

The other Noah narrows his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"What is it you once told me?" Sheril continues on as though Wisely had not spoken. "Something about it being hard to focus on several peoples' thoughts at once? I think you've mentioned that before…"

"What do you—" He stops then, his eyes widening as some sort of realization appears to dawn on him.

_What is it? Has something happened?_ _What have they done?_

Before Tyki can get a word out, he feels the hair on the back of his neck tingle in anticipation—and manages to dodge the long blade right before it tries to cut clean through his throat.

 _A distraction. I see…so that whole spiel Sheril used was only to distract Wisely from noticing the others. By keeping his attention focused solely on detecting his lies, he managed to buy the others some time._ Fury laces his veins at the thought of his brother's treachery. Since when had their roles been reversed?

The ensuing few seconds are a blur of movement, and when the dust finally settles he finds himself standing with his fellow Noah as they face the people who had tried to ambush them. His mind first picks out Sheril and Road standing with the group of Order members, and his blood boils as he recognizes some of them. The exorcists number about seven strong, and automatically he finds his eyes drawn to a few of them. There is the cute girl from before, along with the annoying redhead; a memory of acute pain runs through him when he recognizes Allen's master standing near the back of the group with a carefree grin. He doesn't know three of the others, but his gaze hardens when they settle upon the most familiar face of the lot—and without a doubt the same one who had tried to slice his head off seconds prior.

Tyki scoffs. "So we meet again, Mr. Kitchen Knife," he teases the Japanese man, whose jaw clenches in response to his derisive words. His blade is poised to strike, but he knows that he won't do so yet, not when it would only bring down the wrath of several Noah upon him. He turns his attention towards Road and his brother. "I'll give you that you two have a good chance of getting away now, but with only these weaklings backing you up there's hardly a possible outcome of winning. You may as well give up now."

Anger stews within him at Road's look of dismay, the glance arousing certain aspects of himself that he would rather keep buried.

"What happened to you, Tyki?" she asks sadly.

He stands tall, refusing to avoid her steady gaze. "I came to my senses," he tells her. "Nothing more. It would do well for you two to do the same."

"This should be good, then," a voice in the background speaks up, and Tyki's eyes are immediately drawn to the red-haired General—who, he notices with a hint of disappointment, doesn't seem deterred in the least by his return to the Earl's side. "We Generals don't get nearly enough action as it is. It will do me good to get rid of some of you—one less headache for me to deal with."

"Wait a minute…you!" the twins call out simultaneously. "You're General Cross, aren't you?!"

"The one and only."

"You bastard!" Devitto cries. "You're going to pay for all that debt you left us!"

Cross raises a brow, obviously perplexed by the twins' immature nature. "Oh, really? This should be interesting."

The twins are poised to attack the older man, but before another word is spoken, a flicker of movement catches Tyki's eye—and he sees the samurai aim for him only a moment before his sword makes contact. He barely has time to grin before dodging the blow.

 _This will be fun_ , he thinks. _It's about time the two of us fought—I did promise that we would meet again, didn't I? And it will be all the more satisfying once he's dead…_

A moment later, everyone else around him springs into action.

* * *

Reever flinches when he hears the fighting start, the sound of clanging metal and gunshots ringing into the empty air from the floor above. It's enough to make him start sweating; he's all too aware of the fact that the Noah are trying to murder all of their friends—including his boss's sister.

To his credit, Komui seems to be remaining strangely calm, perhaps because he understands that this situation is far too crucial to spend it in an impotent panic. Reever glances to his side, noticing that his friend's hands aren't even shaking as he sets up the equipment near the base of the wall. He appears to be completely unfazed by the battle going on above them.

Of course he wouldn't be, the Australian man thinks with a grimace. The man continuously defies his expectations. Then again, that doesn't mean his ideas are always the wisest (or safest) course of action. In fact, they tend to be the opposite.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Komui?" he asks, put off by the numerous explosives that line the walls.

"Don't be silly, Reever. Of course it's not!"

He feels a bead of sweat roll across his brow. "The fact that you're admitting it doesn't make me feel any better."

Komui carries on as though he hadn't said a thing. "However, General Cross has asked us to split the Noah up at all costs, and I don't intend to let him down—not with Lenalee fighting on the floor above me. Besides, there's no easier way to do this than by leveling the entire floor!"

Reever pales as his superior resumes tinkering with the highly dangerous weaponry—that, he might add, had been sitting in the science lab's junk room for who knows how long—and marvels once again at the sheer audacity of the man before him.

* * *

"What's wrong, samurai? Still can't keep up?"

The swordsman scoffs angrily as the Noah once again evades his weapon, and the two of them continue to move in a bizarrely graceful dance as they stay out of the way of the others' simultaneous battles. Through it all, Tyki can see the Millennium Earl and Wisely out of the corner of his eye, the two of them watching over the chaos with unreadable masks.

However, while some would find this annoying, Tyki actually comes to realize that he is enjoying it. It's a nice build-up to what he hopes (knows) is coming later, but in the end he would much prefer to be somewhere else. Even more than the bothersome samurai, his skin is itching to go find the woman who had started this entire mess.

He can still feel Allen Walker somewhere nearby; no matter how hard he tries to focus on the man in front of him, his body's command to leave his opponent behind and go find her remains strong. It's nothing personal, though he can see from the exorcist's infuriated expression that to him, it most definitely is.

The long blade whips close to his neck, and he grins maniacally before slipping entirely out of its range. And still, the Japanese man pursues him, intent on finishing him off the way he had failed to do twice before. At least this time it's more of a challenge, more exciting than the miserable defeats Tyki had dealt him already.

"I must admit," he says, "you're better than the last time I saw you." The compliment only serves to further anger the exorcist, much to his Noah's delight. "Or are you just especially determined to kill me?"

"Shut up."

No other heed is paid to his teasing words, but he can tell that they are cutting through his emotionless mask. As much as this man may want to deny it, Tyki is still able to ruffle his feathers quite easily. It seems that all of the exorcists he had met are susceptible to taunting from their opponents; it's a bit ironic, actually, that disciples of Innocence would be so hasty to throw their lives away on a mere whim of frustration.

Then again, isn't that all they're meant for, anyway?

As Tyki continues to laugh and taunt, each subsequent blow is just a bit harder, a bit more intense as the samurai tries desperately to sever his body parts. As the fight goes on, it even starts to shock _him_. This man really wants him dead—he craves it, more than he even cares about preserving his own life. He had known as much already, but he had never seen the samurai so bloodthirsty and determined before—not even the first time he invaded the Order and kidnapped Allen from right beneath his nose.

If this is what love does to people, then he's glad he had gotten out while he could. He may as well put the man out of his misery, then…

Tyki smiles at his opponent. "You really do hate me, don't you, samurai? Your eyes are burning with it."

There is no response, but he doesn't expect one. That doesn't mean he can't have his fun verbally tormenting the man, though. "I wonder what's changed your resolve since we last fought. Could it be that Allen Walker's demise has gotten to you?"

A flash of wrath enters the exorcist's steely gaze, and Tyki cackles aloud.

"Struck a nerve, have I? Well, I can't blame you. Then again, she already forgave me, you know? So you really have no reason to be angry with me…but knowing you, there's another reason, isn't there?" He barely dodges a swipe from the katana, and purses his lips in excitement when he sees a few strands of curly hair fall free from their bind. "She's probably ruined for you after what happened between us. I kept my promise—but I suppose you can see that from her pregnancy, can't you? I always wondered if the Vatican would tolerate a defiled woman."

That does it; more than anything else he has said so far, Tyki knows that this had cut the samurai far deeper than any blade ever could. His dark eyes, so full of anguish and pure, undiluted hatred, swirl with fire as he releases a harsh battle cry. For a moment he merely watches the incoming attack, appreciative of how he had so readily caved in to his taunts.

But before the man reaches him, the ground beneath them all starts to rumble and crack, and even from all the way across the room Tyki can see the Earl glancing around in confusion. Those who are fighting all do the same.

And then, in the blink of an eye, the floor ruptures, spewing clouds of fire and dust into the air as several chunks of it cave in.

Tyki moves without thinking, hissing as the samurai's blade manages to cut his arm in his haste to escape the trap below. He can't see where he is going, only focuses on using his ability to stay aboveground; ash clouds his vision, and he growls in frustration as he makes for the direction of the entrance.

_Damn them. They've thought this through, and with Road and Sheril helping them…_

He leaps over the crumbling ground, and hears the confused murmurs of his fellow Noah below him (along with Skin's enraged bellows), but he pays them no mind. At the very least, this distraction has some unforeseen consequences that work in his favor; amidst the confusion, no one will be able to see him slip away.

_This is my chance._

As soon as his feet touch ground on the other side of the gaping crater, he is tearing off down the hallway in search of her. Excitement speeds up his pace, as he is wary of being caught missing and pursued by the samurai—not that it would necessarily be a bad thing, but he'll take what he can get. His "plan" is little more than a series of indulgent whims.

Tyki closes his eyes for a moment and pictures the young woman's face in his mind, seeking out the spark of life that has always alerted him to her presence…

Barely a second later, he finds it, and promptly phases through the wall to his right.

She isn't far from here.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take him long to get to where she is; it's hard to miss someone who stands out as much as she does. He can tell what room she's in the moment he enters the hall.

His arrival doesn't seem to come as much of a surprise; she had probably sensed him before he even managed to find her. Without the distraction of a battle, she had most likely known where he was the second he entered the Order. She is already waiting for him, standing in the middle of the room as though impatient for his arrival.

Tyki has to actively stop himself from pouncing at her, so instead he settles for meandering in the doorway. If there's one thing he knows, it is that proximity is dangerous, and he doesn't want this to be over so quickly.

He wants to savor this.

He takes this opportunity to look her over. Her hair, much longer than it had been the first time they'd met, is tied up at the nape of her neck just like his. Unreadable silver eyes meet his gaze head-on, and he is disappointed that he cannot see any fear in them. She may not have changed much, but there is something that nags at him, the feeling that something isn't quite right…

And then it hits him. His eyes widen exponentially when he glances at her stomach. Even through the cloth of her flowing cloak, he can plainly see that it is much smaller than it had been the last time he saw her.

 _It can't be…how could she have given birth already? It hasn't been that long since we've separated, has it?_ He counts the days in his head, even though he logically knows what must have happened. No amount of denial can disprove what he sees before him.

 _Well…this is inconvenient. I suppose I'll just have to kill them separately, then._ Half of him recoils from the thought, but he bites his tongue in an attempt to smother his grim expression.

"Are you surprised?" she asks him, her calm tone catching him off guard. She shoots him a snarky grin, much to his confusion. "You shouldn't be. It was about time, after all."

Tyki swallows dryly, but continues to hold in his urge to tear out her throat. A quick glance around the room tells him that the child is nowhere in sight, and he curses internally. For right now, he has to pretend to be his old self, his human self—the one she has grown used to. If he can fool her into telling him the child's whereabouts, it will make his job that much easier.

"When?" he asks innocently.

"Today. Right before you and your family got here, actually."

 _Her apathy is astounding…she knows that the others—including the Earl, most likely—are here, and yet she's conversing with me as if it's no issue? What is going on?_ "…I see. Are you well?"

"For the most part."

 _To hell with subtlety. This is getting ridiculous._ "…Where is it?"

At that, Allen's face hardens, and her muscles tense as she takes a step back. Shaking her head, she says, "I can't tell you."

He shakes off the initial bout of shock and anger, instead trying to look as offended as possible. "Why not?"

She's conflicted. He can tell just by looking at her, but he doesn't know why. It seems that, even after all this time, this woman will continue to be a mystery that eludes him.

But right now, he is not in the mood for games.

"It's my child, too," he says in a low voice, his eyes narrowing at the white-haired girl.

She shoots him a glare. "Not if I don't say so. You have no right to be a father." Her gaze softens a bit, sadness bleeding into her expression. "…That being said, I had the intention of possibly letting you…but now I'm not so sure."

"What are you on about?"

She takes another step back, planting her foot behind her in an offensive stance. "I was waiting for you. I knew that you'd be the one to find me, but I didn't know that you would be like this—that you would have actually returned to the Earl's side. I can tell just from the way you talk, the way you hold yourself—the way you look at me. You're not Tyki."

Of all the things she could have said, this is without a doubt the most laughable. He releases a stifled chuckle into his palm, and coolly brushes a few strands of hair out of his eyes.

"I'm not Tyki? What, did you really expect me to fake returning to the Earl's side so I could save you? That's what you wanted, isn't it? And because that didn't happen, I can't be him. Is that what you're saying? Is that what you think?" He takes a step forward, and the white-haired girl's eyes flicker with unease as he approaches her. "Don't make me laugh," he spits, enjoying the way her expression becomes pained, even if it's only for a moment. "You know what I am, girl. I'm a Noah, and I always will be. Don't think that this will change on your account."

All it takes to make him hate himself just a little bit more is the sheer anguish on her face. A self-deprecating fog hangs over her, and if he isn't mistaken there is pity within her eyes as well—pity for the both of them, he assumes. It makes him want to shake some sense into her, to grab her by the shoulders and demand that she be angrier with him. After all this time, she should hate him; she should want him dead. He isn't a saint. He isn't her friend.

He's a monster.

And for a split second, he's torn, his iron will hanging by a thread as he watches her deflate at his harsh words. Pain clutches at his heart, squeezing the organ until he feels as if it's about to burst. His treachery actually seems to have an effect on her, though God knows it shouldn't, and while he laughs outwardly at her naivety, there is another part of him that cries for it.

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, seeing her agonize over the person she thinks he is—or isn't—makes him feel…guilty.

 _Stop this. You can't keep trying to hold onto your humanity. You already know this, remember? You know it won't work. You know what she is_.

Of course he does. But when he lets himself be near her for too long, it seems that he can't help but to revert back to his more humane ways. He thought he had left them behind several times, but they always come crawling back.

It would be best if he got this out of the way now.

"If that's true," the white-haired girl says as she steels her gaze, "then I will never let you see her."

"…Her?"

Allen purses her lips.

 _So it's a girl, is it? A daughter…how odd. I never thought I would see the day._ "No matter. If you won't tell me where she is…then I'll just make you."

She resumes her fight stance, and almost immediately he begins to eye his prey. "You just try it."

"If you insist," he says with a twisted smile.

Allen wastes no time in diving for him, her Innocence activating even without a verbal invocation. The white cloak shrouds her whole body, and several tendrils shoot with unprecedented speed at him.

Caught off guard, he has no choice but to sink through the floor.

 _She's fast—even faster than last time. I'll have to be careful. I haven't fought her in a long time, and I don't fancy the thought of being choked unconscious again. And, now that she's no longer pregnant, she'll be able to move faster…not to mention that her kid's life is on the line. I doubt she'll let me win that easily_.

He resists the force in his body that tries to stop him from going back—the part that hesitates at the thought of hurting her more—and pokes his head back up through the floor.

She's waiting for him as soon as he resurfaces, and the Noah has to move quickly in order to avoid being skewered by the blade-like cloth of her Innocence. He twists and jumps around the high walls of the room, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. It feels to him as though her Innocence is apparently endless, never ceasing in its attempts to grab ahold of him.

After a few seconds, though, he notices something strange—that, at the very least, the young woman is going easy on him. Well, not easy, per se, since he knows for a fact that he isn't so effortlessly beaten, but she seems to be avoiding aiming the most lethal blows—and this only angers him more.

_Why isn't she aiming for my head, or at least my heart? Is she not trying to kill me? The foolish girl…does she really think I'll spare her life?_

_Does she really care whether or not I die?_

_If so, I could get close to her. If she really isn't trying to kill me, it should be simple. All I need to do is get around her Innocence without getting entangled, and then…_

… _And then I can kill her._

For a brief second he falters, and she takes advantage of the opportunity; he curses as one of the white ribbons manages to wrap itself around his wrist.

_Damn!_

Without thinking, he summons dark matter into his palm and slices through the bind. Allen curses and sends more of her Innocence after him, in even greater swarms than before. But from the height he's at, it's impossible to reach him, unless…

She realizes it at the same time as him, but there's hardly anything he can do to stop it. On the contrary, he welcomes it, knowing that it will only end up bringing her closer to her own demise.

The white-haired girl wraps her own Innocence around her, using it to hoist herself into the air. Now with increased mobility, she fires after him with determined eyes.

 _That's right. Keep trying to get close to me. Do you really think I'll spare you, girl? You're in for a rude awakening_ …

His adrenaline peaks as he throws himself to the ground, and she predictably follows. He barely has time to turn around before blocking her blow, his dark matter keeping her clawed hand at bay.

She jumps back, sidestepping once before coming at him again with her arm, and Tyki somehow manages to block her hits. With every failed attempt, she closes the gap between them a bit more. As she continues to assault him, the ribbon holding her hair up slips off, and her white strands flow freely around her face.

 _That's it. Just a bit closer_... "You know, it would be easier if you just told me where she was. I'm sure my daughter would love to see me, don't you think?"

"I won't let you find her," Allen snarls, her arm shaking with effort as she holds him off. She's starting to be worn down, though; he can see it in her eyes. Frankly, he's surprised (and impressed) that she even made it this far, what with her being in labor not too long ago. If nothing else, she's at least earned his admiration.

He sees a strand of her Innocence rear up behind her, and grins to himself as it targets him. He does nothing to stop it from grabbing ahold of his wrist, knowing that she won't be able to keep up her strength for much longer; even now, the Noah can sense her fatigue, and he's confident that he will be able to fend off any type of restraint she puts on him.

All he has to do is pretend.

Several other strands latch onto his arms and legs, and he tentatively tests out the waters by flexing his limbs.

 _Hmm…they're a bit stronger than I imagined. They are made of Innocence, after all. But even if I can't break them, how long can she keep them materialized in her state? How sturdy are they?_ He briefly considers that she may be keeping them loose in order to avoid hurting him, but whether that's true or not doesn't really matter in the end.

All he needs is a single second to win.

Allen allows herself to relax slightly, taking a few steps away from her supposed captive. Neither of them speak a word as they stare at each other.

Out of the blue, Tyki scoffs.

"You're still weak, girl," he tells her, chuckling heartily.

"What?"

"Did you really think that these things would be enough to defeat me? You underestimate me."

She narrows her eyes at him. "I don't need to defeat you. All I want is for you to understand."

 _Understand what?_ "I'm afraid I don't follow. Anyway, it's about time this whole affair came to an end, don't you think?"

He sends her a sadistic grin, and the young woman's eyes widen. At the same moment she rears back to avoid his blow, he thrusts his hand forward, straining against the sheer strength of the Innocence that binds his wrist. Her Innocence sharpens and cuts into him, drawing from him both blood and a pained hiss, but he can't find it within himself to care.

His hand sinks into her chest, and without hesitation, he smiles cheekily at her.

"My apologies, girl."

He sees the flash of panic on her face, watches with hungry eyes as her pupils constrict with fear—of what, he isn't certain—and for an instant, he allows himself to feel a small thrill of victory.

But then the guise is lifted, and for a few frozen seconds he seems to come back to himself—and for a single, perturbing moment, he wishes he could take it back.

So he does.

Without thinking, he pulls his arm free, and the second his hand leaves her chest he knows with horrifying clarity that it's too late.

Blood spews from Allen's mouth, staining her pale features with deeps scarlet, and her eyes squint in agony. She releases a choked cough, and as Tyki watches the girl before him with a pounding heart, she falls to her hands and knees.

_What…what have I done?_

He backs away from her, his heart constricting as he watches her struggle to stand back up. The situation is surreal, and so terrifyingly morbid that he almost thinks that it's a dream. But the pain in his wrist is real—and so is the pain in his own chest, even if it has no physical cause.

She soon gives up the effort to regain her footing, and instead settles for raising her eyes to meet his. Mesmerized by shock, he can only watch as her bloodied lips struggle to form words.

"T-Tyki," she chokes out. "Can you…hear me?"

Dumbstruck, he can only nod in response.

Allen sighs, minor relief painting her distressed features. "Thank God…it's you, isn't it? You realized at the last second…" She closes her eyes for a moment, and when she reopens them, they are silently pleading with him.

"Don't hurt her," she says. "Please…don't hurt her…"

And then, for her final blow, she smiles up at him—and in that instant, his heart irreparably shatters.

She collapses forward onto the ground, and to him it looks like she's falling in slow motion. Her silver eyes are clouded with agony, and he watches as they slide closed, as her stained hair flows out around her like a halo, as her expression finally relaxes when she settles to the floor. He almost flinches at the hollow thud of her body hitting the ground.

And then…

…nothing happens. She lies as still as a statue, giving off no signs that she is conscious. There is nothing.

Nothing.

Everything is silent and still but for the pounding of his heart.

He doesn't know what to do.

He should be happy.

He had finally done what he came here for, so why isn't he satisfied? Why, instead of being relieved of his suffering, does it seem to have increased tenfold?

As Tyki stares down at Allen's pale, bloodstained face, he realizes the answer.

Even his Noah cannot break through to him now; the wall is back up in his mind, reinforced by the horrifying realization that he has killed Allen Walker.

_I killed her. I actually killed her…even when she was trying to save me…_

He almost can't bear it, the sensation of a knife piercing his heart; it's making him feel as if he is going to be sick.

_I killed the mother of my child. I killed her._

_I loved her…and I killed her._

From somewhere else in the room, hidden from his view, a baby starts to wail.


	40. A Reminder of You

Seconds feel like years, and for what seems like a lifetime he watches her.

He is unable to tear his eyes away from Allen Walker's prone body.

Of course he knows what he's done. He sees the evidence on his hands and in his red reflection, his shocked expression staring up at him from her pool of blood. He also remembers thrusting his hand through her chest in the first place, right before a clear head overcame him and he pulled away—too late, he might add. He remembers most everything that had led up to this moment, but he's more than willing to write it all off as a fevered dream. That's what it should be; never in a million years should a person harm someone they care for, even if the situation is as dysfunctional as theirs, and even if he had broken that rule several times already. He wants to believe that none of this is real, that soon he will awaken to find himself back with her, on the run from family and enemies alike.

He wants to, but he can't.

The distant sound of a baby—his baby—crying reaches him from far away, almost as if it's not even a part of his world. It's a distant echo, a product of something that shouldn't exist. And the worst part is, with the white-haired girl lying on the ground beneath him, he can't even bring himself to care. He cares more about the woman he had spent so much time with than the being he had helped create, as awful as that might sound.

So time continues to beat slowly, falling through his fingers like water until, at the very end, it speeds back up.

And just like that, Tyki finds his voice.

"Allen," he whispers; his own voice sounds foreign to his ears. "Get up."

There is a part of him that actually expects her to move, that hopes she will answer him and prove his eyes wrong, but hers do not twitch at his insistence. He doesn't even consider the fact that, were she alive, she would certainly not be conscious or capable of speaking. The wound in her chest is a testament to that.

Instead, in response to his command, the young woman lies in a collapsed heap on the floor, her eyes hidden beneath bloody hair and pale drawn features. Her hands, which had been stiff at first, are gradually losing their grip.

Unbeknownst to him, his own hands start to shake.

"Allen," he says again, this time with more force. He uses the voice that had always put her on edge, the one that betrays his anger at her refusal to obey his request.

Predictably, it doesn't work; when silence once again greets him, he takes a tentative step forward, and that single step is all he needs to break down the wall he had so carefully crafted over these past few years.

Tyki staggers toward her, all of his prior restraint gone, and collapses to his knees beside her unconscious (he hopes) body. His breath is now coming in short, clipped bursts, his lungs exerting their maximum effort to keep him from making a noise and alerting others to his location. In the distance he can still hear the fighting, and if someone were to walk in now he isn't certain that he would be able to defend himself.

Though, if he is being honest, that hardly matters to him at the moment.

He curls his body over hers, searching her pale features for signs of alertness but fearful of touching her—he doesn't want to feel how cold her skin is, if his worst fears are confirmed. That would surely cause him to snap. Instead he places his lips close to her ear.

"What are you doing, girl?" he asks her in a low voice, his own desperation plain within the rushed words. "You said that you would stop me, didn't you? Don't you care about your daughter?"

_Our daughter._

A sharp pain rips through his chest, and all at once the child's distant wails become even more prominent, echoing within his mind and tormenting him beyond all rational thought.

For a moment, he nearly loses it. _Where is she?_ Almost numb to his body's actions, Tyki pushes himself back to his feet and darts around the room, seeking out the place where the white-haired girl had hidden the baby.

_Where is she? If I find her, I can bring her to Allen, and then…_

And then what? What would that accomplish? As if something so fanciful could undo all of the damage he's done…

In his confused stupor, he quickly gives up the effort. An empty feeling rushes back into his heart as he returns to Allen's side; despair tries to pull him down, but he pointlessly attempts to escape it.

"She's not dead," he says to himself as he kneels beside her again. He sounds almost angry—perhaps because he knows that he's lying to himself, trying to make himself feel better. There is only one way to find out, but Tyki cannot bring himself to feel her skin, not after how he had torn her apart…not with the possibility of laying his hands on her cold, lifeless body…

_What am I supposed to do now?_

For what seems like the first time, Tyki glances down at the woman beside him—the woman he had hurt so badly, so many times, but who had continued to find purpose in her life. Who had not hated him, even after what he did—even after he tried to take her life again. Her pale, bloodied face causes his heart to seize in his chest, and he is sure that if he were to see her opened eyes they would be staring at him with hatred and regret—despite the fact that, he remembers with a pang, her last message to him had been a smile.

A smile and a simple request, and he could not even do that; there is no doubt in his mind that he has already failed before trying. He can't even find his own child.

_Don't hurt her…_

"How am I supposed to do that, you fool?" he hisses at her.

She says nothing back to him.

He clenches his teeth in frustration. "You gave me too much credit," he says softly. "Of all people…why would you want to save me? You said yourself that the Noah Clan can't survive."

As he continues to stare at her, wanting a reply but receiving none, he only grows angrier.

"You stupid, selfless girl," he hisses. "You let yourself be killed, and for what? For a monster like me to raise our child?"

_It's not fair. Of all that has happened so far in our story, this is by far the most absurd. How could someone so good lose? Is this the world's idea of balance? Killing those with the best intentions and allowing the filth to run rampant?_

_It's not fair._

He squeezes his eyes shut, and it's only a moment later when he realizes, with some surprise, that he is actually _crying_.

A hot tear trails down his cheek, and it burns as he imagines holy water would. A few more follow, apparently out of his control as they drip onto the tattered clothes of the girl at his knees. He merely stares down at them in shock, wondering when on earth he had regained this ability.

 _I'm…crying?_ The child's cries have faded to dull whimpers, and he almost laughs at the cruel irony of the situation. He shouldn't be the one crying—not in the presence of an infant whose own father is a murderer—and Tyki honestly can't remember the last time he had. Surely he hasn't done so since he became a Noah, so what is this?

He had almost been convinced that he lost the ability entirely.

But now it seems that's all he's capable of doing. His chest hurts almost as though Skin had punched him—as though he had reached into his own chest and torn his beating heart out.

He might as well have, he thinks cynically.

No matter what he tries, the traitorous tears are beyond his control. They continue to drip silently onto the woman beside him, and as he watches Tyki only grows more pained.

He just wants it to stop.

All of it.

"Dammit," he snaps, closing his eyes again. "You can't die," he tells her gruffly. "I won't allow it. We still have unfinished business, don't we?"

Without pausing to dwell on the wisdom of his actions, Tyki grabs the white-haired girl's arm and rolls her over, shifting her onto her back. He nearly flinches at the impassive expression on her face, but brings his own closer to it regardless.

 _If she can sacrifice herself for a child, then surely I can deal with the aftermath. It's the least I can do_ …

"Wake up," he commands her yet again, his desperation now all too obvious, even to him. His stomach roils with unease, panic bubbling just below the surface as she insists on ignoring him. "I said _wake up_. How long are you going to keep laying there, girl? I didn't give you permission to die yet." _Even though I was the one to hurt you._ "Are you really going to let me get rid of you so easily? Wake up."

The lax muscles and empty face that stare back at him are physically painful to see, but Tyki forces himself to keep looking at it—to keep looking at her.

" _Wake up_!"

He can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, can feel his blood bubbling in panic and rage—rage directed mostly towards himself, this situation, and most of all, his Noah. If it weren't for the person who lurks inside him, none of this would have happened—but at the same time, he knows that he deserves a portion of the blame as well.

But then he thinks about her, and about all of the times she should have died already; every time he had almost killed her, or she had been in grave danger from another member of his family, she had miraculously survived, and it seems woefully unfitting that she should die here now at his hand. He understands all too well the betrayal she must feel, even if they had not been anything close to friends. There's no doubt in his mind that Allen had felt something for him that wasn't hatred, and perhaps she had even empathized with him in those last few moments—even while he had been trying to kill both her and her daughter.

She reminds him of someone, but in another vein she is an enigma all her own.

"Allen…" he says softly, a stray tear squeezing out of the corner of his eye as he finally utters her proper name. "…Please, wake up…" He takes a deep breath, and without hesitating he touches her limp hand.

And immediately, his eyes widen in disbelief.

_Her hand…it's warm._

And it is—unbelievably so. The tips of her fingers are cold, but her palms still burn with lingering heat, and if he focuses hard enough he can almost feel the faint beat of her pulse coming from her wrist.

_It can't be…_

Still in slight shock, Tyki places his ear on her chest—and there, beneath the layer of thick cloth, he can hear the irregular heartbeat within.

_She's not fine, but she's alive._

Against his will he feels several more tears roll down his cheeks, but his relief is so broad that he hardly cares anymore.

"How are you still alive…?" he asks aloud. Dimly, he realizes that she won't be for much longer; if he doesn't do something to save her, she will surely perish in a few minutes.

Glancing around, Tyki spies several metal instruments laying on a tray near a cot, and based on the large room's layout he figures that he must be in or near the Order's medical wing. He should be able to find a way to save her—he has no choice.

As much as it hurts him to do so, he tries to get up and go in search of bandages—but when he attempts to get to his feet, he feels a slight pressure on his hand.

His eyes bulge in shock, and as he glances back at the young woman his heart skips a beat.

Golden eyes stare back at him, framed by messy white hair and, to his grave unease, gray skin.

* * *

The General narrowly avoids being struck by the seemingly infinite supply of bullets that the two Noah send his way. Balls of various elements, ice and fire, as well as ones that form sharp spikes in midair, fly at him with a higher velocity that he would have deemed possible for a puny toy gun.

_This must be their ability—one of them, at least. It seems like they can create all manner of things…how far does it go, I wonder?_

Their conjoined form is grotesque in its inhumane appearance, and Cross snorts as Jasdevi, as they had deemed themselves, nearly steps on the flowing hair near their feet.

After recovering, the two cackle morbidly as he glares at them, apparently delighted by his obvious disgust. Initially it had taken him off guard, but at this point is should be clear to him that he never knows what to expect wherever the Noah are concerned. Neah and Ezra are the only ones he had truly known.

His Maria provides a shield for him to avoid the twins' attacks, but he hesitates to activate her auditory capabilities. Sure, it would put his opponents at a disadvantage, but if he did it then it would affect the others as well; he doesn't have time to be creating shields for all of them, and in any case they have their own opponents to deal with. They can't afford to sit idly by while he fights.

And still, from his vantage point on the floor below the collapsed hallway, he can see the Earl and another male Noah, the one with a turban, watching the fights around them. The latter looks only slightly excited, but also wary of getting caught in the crossfire, while the Earl continues to play spectator with unreadable eyes.

It makes him uneasy, though the General would never admit it. What is he waiting for? Is he waiting for an opportune time to swoop in and kill them? Or does he think that they aren't even worth the effort?

_Ridiculous. He would never underestimate us…not me, at least. He must be waiting for something._

Cross knows that he doesn't have time to worry about it. Even now he can see Kanda struggling behind him, the samurai forcing his way down the hall and to a more secluded section as he goes against the largest Noah.

 _Hm. The curly-haired one has disappeared. I wonder where he's gone off to._ He knows, of course, but he is strangely unconcerned about it. There's no way he'll be able to kill his apprentice, not with the protection of another Noah hanging over her. Not only that, but it's the same Noah he couldn't best thirty-five years ago. Even if he does try to kill her, it won't work out in his favor.

The true action is yet to come.

Cross hears Bookman's apprentice take out another chunk of wall on the floor above him, hears the powerful sound of Lenalee's repaired Innocence while she evades her opponent's attacks skillfully, like the wraith she is. He knows that they'll be fine, because they have to be. If not, then all of this would have been for nothing—and Cross Marian despises nothing if not extra work.

Undeterred, the red-haired General passively fires a flurry of bullets at the Noah twins.

* * *

It's hard to say what's going through her mind right now; Allen isn't even sure herself, but the apathy she has towards the situation is startling even to her.

She's back in the darkness like before, unaware of what's going on around her except for the dull throb of pain. It's coming from somewhere, somewhere in the real world, but she can't pinpoint what's happened…all she feels is pain and fatigue, but the slight ache of her heart tells her that it's worse than she can imagine. Allen cannot shake the feeling that something is…different, be it herself or the world around her.

Even the darkness is different somehow. It's almost as though she's…

_What's going on? What's happening to me…?_

" _Is that you?"_

_Neah…_

" _Is it finally time?"_

_What's happening? Who is he…talking to…?_

" _Yes,"_ a mellow voice answers him, the sound music to even the white-haired girl's tortured ears. _"It's been a long time, hasn't it? We haven't gotten to speak properly in ages."_

" _Indeed…I'm afraid I must apologize, though. This body is extremely damaged."_

A flicker of shock and anger seizes her, but it's quickly reclaimed by the intruder's calm aura. " _I see_ ," she sighs. _"She's had a hard life, hasn't she?"_

" _You could say that. You probably already know this, don't you? You're the one who told me to find her. You must have known how her life would turn out, or at least had a hint."_

" _I know,"_ the woman replies. _"And I was right to do it. I can already feel how strong she is, how brave and capable—and I feel guilty, because no matter what happens now…"_

Allen feels herself fading away, slipping back into the darkness as she senses someone else taking her place.

_What are you doing?_

_Don't…_

_Don't get rid of me! This body is mine! Neah! Who are you?!_

_Give it back!_

_"…She will have to deal with the consequences."_

* * *

He has seen her in her Noah form already, but Tyki doesn't think that he will ever grow accustomed to it; it's so much like him and all the others that it makes his skin crawl. Allen should never look like a Noah—it isn't right. The familiar depravity and entitlement that plagues their Clan isn't something that he would ever dare to associate with her, no matter how much he wished to in the past. It's not who she is.

But there's nothing he can do about it, even though it pains him to see her fall to his own level—and it certainly doesn't help that her gaze is impassive when it lands on him, her golden eyes clouded and glazed over with initial confusion. He has to actively stop himself from pulling away when her eyes dilate; he feels his Noah's wrath festering inside of him, trying to force his will back to the surface when he sees the old enemy sitting right in front of him.

Even so, Tyki cannot shake the feeling that something is…off.

"Allen?" he says, forcing her name through clenched teeth when she shifts beneath him. "What are you doing? Don't try to get up. You're injured…" _Please be her_ , he thinks longingly. _Please_ …

To his dismay, Tyki's hopes are shattered as soon as she opens her mouth. Despite his protests, the young woman sits up, perching her body on her elbows as she brings a hand to the wound on her torso. In a low voice, she says, "Her body is damaged."

Had she not even heard him? Or had she merely ignored what he said? His heart flutters painfully, and his veins feel as though they've congealed into ice as he takes note of her sudden shift in tone—and not only that, but her odd use of third person speech, as though the body she's in is not her own…

He stiffens when her eyes lock onto his, and he desperately resists the urge to demand an explanation, to force her—him? He isn't certain which pronoun to use—into returning the young woman's body to its rightful owner.

But he can't say it, he realizes as a lump forms in his throat.

He can't say anything.

All he can do is struggle; struggle to keep Joyd from retaking his body now that the other Noah he has longed to destroy is so near. He's relieved that Allen's body isn't dead, as it means there is still a chance of saving her, but he is horrified that it's being controlled by someone else—someone that he harbors no good will towards.

But there's something odd about it, he notices. This doesn't feel like before, when her body had been taken over by the Fourteenth during their stay in one of the inns on their journey. The Fourteenth isn't acting like himself; he seems too calm, too composed in the presence of the person who had once tried to kill him.

He has no idea what's going on, though the inkling of suspicion is there, and he is almost afraid to know.

But he still wants to.

"Who are you?" he finally chokes out, the words grating like knives in his throat. _Please, don't be who I think it is…_

The white-haired girl—not Allen, he reminds himself—doesn't seem surprised by his question, and in fact she even sends a gentle smile his way, almost as though she is amused by it. His heart clenches at the expression, so much like the young woman's but with the painful reminder that it's not. He would almost be willing to believe it is, if only for the sake of ridding himself of this misery.

She takes her time answering his question, and Tyki watches, mesmerized, as her hand hovers over the wound he had left in her chest. She merely holds it there, not an ounce of pain in her features even as the pressure of her hand stems the blood flow.

 _What is she doing? Surely that won't heal it completely. Even the Noah's regenerative abilities aren't that fast-acting against dark matter_ …

"That's an odd question," she observes, her lips pursed in mild amusement. "I thought that you, of all people, would realize who I am, even if your memories have been tampered with." Her gaze drifts downward and eyes the wound he had left with idle relief.

"What…?" He can't quite bring himself to finish the question, but it doesn't seem to bother her. She continues speaking as though he hadn't even uttered a sound.

"It seems I arrived just in time," she concludes as she brushes the tips of her fingers over the bloody hole in her cloak. "You narrowly missed her heart, but she might have died anyway were it not for us. The combined strength of two Noah is more extensive than I imagined…"

_Of two Noah…?_

The realization, before just a mild irritant at the edge of his mind, hits him with such ferocity that he is tempted do deny it at first—and he does.

"What are you—you can't be serious," he stutters. _Not after everything that's happened. She can't be_ … "You can't be real."

The strange woman raises her brow at him, and suddenly Tyki has a hard time believing that the two of them, granddaughter and grandmother, are related at all. This stranger's devious nature is almost otherworldly compared to Allen's, and it causes gooseflesh to rise on his skin.

"Oh?" she says. "I assure you, I am very real, Joyd. A part of you must have known something was missing all this time. Even if your mind was not conscious of it, you must have known that I would come back someday."

"I'm not Joyd," he says irritably, flinching at the sudden burst of pain between his eyes. Even hearing or uttering the name is enough to cause stress to his body.

"You're not? So you're his vessel, then? That's strange…I feel his presence very strongly right now. You also seem like you're in pain, dear…"

"Quit it," he snaps. _Quit looking into me_.

A sad smile flits across her features. "You're holding him back, aren't you? You poor man…"

There is genuine sympathy in her tone, and it makes him ill just to hear it when he knows that it isn't actually coming from the white-haired girl—not that he wants her pity, anyway. If anything it would be even worse coming from Allen, but that doesn't mean he's willing to put up with it from this woman, especially considering the body she inhabits.

But still, no matter how much he wants to, he's incapable of pulling away from her. She reaches out to him, her hand becoming the center of his vision; everything else around them is blurred, and as she places her palm on the back of his neck he doesn't tell her to stop. He thinks for a moment that she could have done something to him—put a spell on him, or manipulated him somehow. He doesn't know her abilities, after all, but right now he doesn't really care.

He allows her to pull his head closer, and for a second Tyki even wonders whether she's going to kiss him.

But she doesn't, much to his relief (disappointment). Instead her chin brushes across the top of his head, and she pulls him to her chest; his face is now partially hidden within the velvety confines of her cloak, and she holds him there as though he will shatter if released.

_Is she…trying to comfort me?_

This is far from what he had expected from the person who is supposed to be one of his Noah's greatest enemies—but then again, she had also been one of his closest companions at one time. Even if Joyd hates her, that doesn't mean the sentiment is returned. Even if she had been the one to kill him, does that really say anything about her true feelings? Look what _he_ had done to the woman he claims to love—how is this any different, apart from the circumstances?

_People hurt those they care about. That's the way it is._

At first Tyki is too shocked to do anything but lie stiff against her. He's disturbed, perhaps even a bit frightened—not that he would ever admit it—by this turn of events, but once the initial tension has passed he relaxes against her. She smells like Allen, even if his subconscious mind is telling him the opposite, and the warmth and slow beat of her heart beneath his ear fills him with the renewed relief that she is _alive_. Is it so wrong to appreciate that fact for a few seconds, a few minutes? Even the blood on her clothes doesn't faze him, and he can feel his eyelids start to droop shut of their own accord.

_What am I doing? I'm not supposed to let my guard down around her. She's supposed to be my enemy, but…_

_I want to trust her_.

"You poor man," she says once more, and Tyki feels his heart flutter at the unmistakable sound of Allen's voice issuing from her lips. Yes, this is fine; she sympathizes with him; she must understand him. There's no reason for him to be afraid…

"You remind me of him," she whispers against the top of his head. "The vessel that came before you, though I only knew him for a short time before…"

What she's saying should probably concern him, but strangely enough, with her presence, he is more relaxed than anything.

"He fought so hard to keep himself and preserve his humanity, but in the end he couldn't resist any longer. The Third Noah has a way of wearing people down, you know…I'm surprised you've managed this long, to be frank. I thought that once you gave into your carnal ambitions for the first time, it would all be over—when you allow yourself to be pulled in once, there's nothing else you can do to stop it. The Noah are like that; they slowly devour every part of you, until one day you're unable to remember that it was ever any different at all. That's how it happened before—but you've clung to humanity all this time, even when it caused you pain. Why?"

She pulls back to look at him, and Tyki nearly hisses in frustration as cold seeps back into his skin—but then he glances upwards, and the yawning cleft in his chest grows larger when he is cruelly reminded of the circumstances.

She stares expectantly at him, a gentle, curious smile on her face as she waits for his answer, and he is loathe to keep anything from her—but he still tries.

"Because I want both," he says, digging his nails into his palms. A bead of blood seeps out from the gouge, but he ignores the spike of pain. "I want to keep both a light side and a dark side—to be both Noah and human at the same time."

The woman's smile grows. "How selfish," she concludes, but it's more of a keen observation than an accusation. Even so, Tyki cannot help but to take offense to it.

"What's wrong with that?" he defends himself. "Having a gray area inside me is what makes life interesting. Why should I have to choose one way or the other?" He doesn't mention that he has already been thinking along the same lines as her. For some reason, he is more interested in what she has to say about it.

She brushes a strand of hair behind his ear, and his skin tingles where she touches him. "You aren't wrong," she agrees, "but this is not that."

"What?"

"Without realizing it, you have already chosen many times. Every time you hurt her…"

Tyki flinches at the memories her smooth voice conjures.

"…every time you tried to save her…"

_I did that because…_

"…every time you tried to control her…"

He shakes his head, but it doesn't stop the woman from talking. "Every time you did those things, you chose one side or the other. You never acted impartially, though you were quite conflicted at times. You always chose one side—human or Noah. This situation isn't as simple as you're making it out to be. Contrary to what you might say, you never had both."

He's floored—and a bit angry, if he's being truthful—and his feelings must show plainly on his face, because her smile widens; it doesn't seem as though she's mocking him, though it would make his anger justified if she were. It comes across as though she's trying to hold back her frown, but all the same he notices a cloud of melancholy hovering over her. Is she trying to hold back the negative emotions for his sake?

If so, it isn't working.

"I know this might be hard to hear," she says softly, "especially considering that you seem as though you've believed it for quite some time. But you have to understand. What you've considered to be mere impartiality—a compromise, if you will, a desire and belief that you could keep both your Noah and human halves—is nothing more than hypocrisy."

"That's not true," he objects halfheartedly.

If she even hears him, she doesn't show it. "The awful things you did in the Earl's name, the many times you killed and maimed innocents, and especially when you harmed my granddaughter—all of that was a product of Joyd's rage. It was _his_ sadism, _his_ revenge, not yours. Can you really not remember what it was like before you became a Noah? In the fleeting moments when you felt guilt, or when you rebelled against the Noah Clan, you felt more like yourself, didn't you? It's true that both Noah and human exist within you—the distinction is more blurred than I'd like to believe—but for them to coexist equally in the same vein causes conflict and pain. You've experienced it firsthand."

Allen—not Allen—cocks her head to the side, the golden eyes that are so much like his shining with tears (much to his surprise). Her image tugs at his heart, but he tries to bury the feeling.

"Can you honestly say this is what you desire? To always be waiting in dread, trying to maintain both halves of yourself while one of them is constantly trying to consume the other? You know as well as I do that Joyd will not give up so easily. He will keep trying to control you, and one of these days he will succeed."

Her voice is right in his ear, and goose bumps rise across the back of his neck.

"He will take everything from you," she whispers. "…Including her. Will you accept that?"

_No. Never. Of course not, but what else is there for me to do? At least right now I have some control. I stopped myself in time, before I was able to kill her. Doesn't that say something, at least? Doesn't that mean I can overcome him?_

"You may think that you have it under control, but that's an illusion. You can't keep this up forever—do you truly think you can stop the Noah with sheer force of will? One day you will lose for good, and Joyd will take away everything you care about—just like he tried to do earlier, and countless times before."

Memories of Allen's bloodied face—still right in front of him, but shining with the distinct aura of someone else—mercilessly attack his psyche. The brief flash of fear in her eyes—fear of him, the last (first) thing he wants to see, and the resigned smile she gave him in her final moment. It hits him full-force then, and with a groan Tyki curls in on himself, unwilling to accept what he knows to be a painful truth.

It's true. It hurts to admit it, but it's true. If he had not managed to regain some semblance of his humanity, Joyd would have destroyed her, torn her apart beyond measure. He would have made sure the white-haired girl was dead—not only that, but he would have torn the room apart too in order to murder his child. He would have taken away anything that held any meaning for him, and in doing so destroy his reason for remaining human in the first place.

And he would have done it with a smile on his face.

 _I won't let him take her from me_.

Anger eats away at him, and it is stronger than ever before.

So why can't he fight it? Why, after all this time, is he still unable to stop Joyd from taking over?

Agony throbs in his brow, pulses through his skull, and Tyki clenches his teeth to the point that he fully expects them to shatter. Yet through his clamped jaw, he still manages to force out two words.

"Help me..."

He can't see her anymore, but he knows that she is there, still hovering above him, perhaps looking down on him with pity. He couldn't care less at the moment.

"Help you?"

He nods his head, the jerky movement only increasing the pain between his eyes. "Please…I don't want her to die…"

"…You're asking me to save her? The same person you were trying so hard to get rid of—how far you must have fallen."

The words sting, but this he is willing to put up with—but if she's testing him, he doesn't have the patience for it. Allen may be in the clear right now, or at least safe from death, but the Order itself is far from safe. If she stays here, there's an extremely high chance of her getting killed—and not only her, but her daughter too. He isn't taking into account her friends, even though he knows she would rather die than abandon them, but that's where he draws the line. He doesn't want to allow her to sacrifice herself, but what else can he do besides plead with the Noah before him to protect her?

The mere thought of it makes him nauseous, and not just because of his headache. He's barely holding himself together as it is.

"I admit that," he gasps. "I'm pretty pathetic, aren't I?" His smile feels like poison as he forces it out, and the woman above him furrows her brows in concern. He swallows his pride, unwilling to make himself look like even more of a fool in her eyes. "Yes, I am asking you for help. I'm past the point of caring where it comes from. I don't give a damn who you are or what you did to Joyd in the past. All I'm asking for is…" He lowers his head to the floor, trying to gather his wits before he raises it again, and his heart skips a beat when their eyes meet. He sighs, part in defeat, and part in relief when he sees that far from looking angry or disdainful, the woman appears rather moved by his display. She's waiting for him to continue, he realizes.

Who had known being humble would get him so far?

"All I'm asking for is that Allen and her daughter remain safe," he concludes softly. "It might be too late to say this, but after all I've done to her, she deserves to live…along with her child."

"…And what about you?"

That's a good one. Tyki nearly laughs out loud at the notion that she is concerned for him; a monster with human skin, even if she is the same as him, should never be looked at with sympathy. Yet here she is, asking him if he wants—or deserves—to live. Should he be honest with her?

Even more than that, does he truly know the answer? Does he deserve to live? No, of course not.

But does he want to?

 _Not enough to keep causing her pain. I suppose…if I were to die by her hand, it wouldn't be the worst way to go_ …

"I don't care," he tells her. "Do with me what you will, as long as Allen lives." _Is there even a way for her to save them—to save any of them?_ _If there were, then only she or the Fourteenth would know it. There's no one else for me to trust._

Ezra—he remembers her name with a pang—stares at him with an unreadable expression, and as the seconds pass it starts to make Tyki slightly uneasy. He still doesn't quite know what to make of her; part of him wonders if she will merely kill him on the spot. He has basically given her permission to do so, and if she tried, he's ashamed to admit that he would probably let her.

"If that is what you want."

He would be lying if he said he isn't shocked. He's sure he must look a sight as he stares up at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, but she doesn't afford him a chance to respond.

"I'll help you, but in return you have to do something for me."

Tyki nods blindly, his stomach churning with discomfort. "Of course. What is it?"

"…Release Joyd."

He thinks that he must have heard her wrong at first, because there's no way she would say such a thing, no reason for her to ever consider it.

Release Joyd? For what purpose? So he can continue on with his rampage and kill them all? Letting him take over would only serve to worsen their position, wouldn't it? So why…?

What on earth is this woman thinking? Has he gotten her intentions all wrong from the beginning?

"What are you saying? That's…" _Insane. Ludicrous. Suicidal._

Ezra hardens her gaze, her golden orbs unyielding in the face of his uncertainty.

"I want to speak with him. Time is running out," she snaps, her impatient tone surprising even him. "If you want to save my granddaughter's life, then you will do as I say and let him take over—though, knowing him, we'll most likely end up getting into a fight. But don't worry."

She smiles now, and relief flows over him like a cool spring.

"I have Neah with me. The two of us will make sure to keep him in check this time. I won't allow him to consume you, but you have to put in some effort as well. Either way, I have to do this."

Tyki stares blankly at her, still uncomprehending, and his stomach drops to his feet when she asks him once again, "Do you want to save her, or not?"

At that instant, he knows he's a goner.

_Damn you, woman…_

And though it pains him to do so, he closes his eyes, and for once welcomes the being that he hates even more than himself.


	41. A Reunion of Sorts

She isn't afraid to admit that she had hoped this day would never come.

Having to slaughter members of her "family" the first time had been bad enough, not to mention being forced to leave her child behind after she had failed. If there is anything she regrets most, it would be that: the sheer terror in her daughter's voice as she happened upon her parents' corpses; it's something that no child should ever have to experience.

It's true that she would have died regardless of the outcome, but at least in the original plan Jane would have had her father to look after her.

 _Would_ have, were it not for the Noah kneeling before her right now. Yet despite the fact that he had ruined everything, she knows he isn't all to blame. It's only natural that he would seek revenge on them after what her and Neah had done—and it's only natural that they would come back to finish the job.

That doesn't make it hurt her any less.

 **Are you starting to lose your nerve, Ezra? You're controlling this body right now, but maybe I should take control if you're too sentimental to kill him**.

 _Don't speak about my granddaughter in such a careless manner_ , she replies. _And to answer your question, no. Right now I'm waiting. It wouldn't be fair to kill him before he's had a chance to speak_.

**Fairness has nothing to do with it. He's a murderer.**

_So are we_.

**He raped your granddaughter—the body you're using.**

The woman digs her nails into her palm. _I made a promise. If I go back on it now, what value will any of my words have?_

… **You're an idiot**. **Not to mention manipulative**.

_Did you expect anything less?_

She returns her attention to the man writhing at her feet; she senses his inner turmoil, and knows exactly when he makes the dreaded shift from mostly human to Noah, and with this transformation comes the pit in her stomach. Though he still crouches on the ground before her, he now lifts his gaze to hers, and in the golden depths she recognizes him instantly—Neah does too, though he decides not to comment on the matter. He looks her up and down, his piercing eyes lingering on her face before his own breaks into a demented smile. "…Ezra," he hisses. "And…the Fourteenth, if I'm not mistaken?"

She gives him a nod.

"So it's a reunion, is it? How fitting, the two of you sharing a body. It almost makes me want to poke my own eyes out. I always knew you two were too close for comfort."

Her voice softens at his jibe. "He's a part of me, Joyd, just as much as any of you ever were. That's beside the point. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

There it is: the momentary flash of hesitation before arrogance takes its place. It doesn't do much to help his case, but although she should be justifiably angered by his past actions, she can't get rid of the sorrow he carries, nor the tumultuous feelings pouring directly from his soul into hers. It's one of the more annoying aspects of being who she is, but she's grown used to it over the years.

"I don't know why I'm surprised. I should have figured you would still be working together. It's _sickening_." Neither she nor Neah try to move as Joyd forces himself to his feet, and the woman briefly marvels at how drastically different his aura is from that of his vessel—who, she also notices, looks disturbingly similar to Neah's original body. She supposes it could be a coincidence, but given Joyd's behavior she highly doubts it.

She tries not to think about it instead.

"So," he begins, "now that you have me here, what do you want with me? To kill me?" It almost sounds as though the idea amuses him.

 _Oh, Joyd…how could you have fallen so low? Even though we tried to get rid of the Noah, I never wanted you to suffer like this. You really have become a monster, haven't you?_ "If you refuse to listen to reason, we may have to," Ezra says. "I have made a promise, after all."

"Ah, yes. The one you made with my vessel. I'll ignore the fact that you're a liar, seeing as you intend to kill me regardless. So, to honor both his request and fulfill your plan, you will kill us both if I go berserk. Isn't that it?"

 **Don't tell him the truth**. A memory that is not her own resurfaces: the flash of a large blade, accompanied by the same hysterical laughter that plagues nightmares.

The Earl's laughter.

 _Of course…but I won't lie, either_. "I don't want to do that. But we will, if it comes to it."

"A bit arrogant, aren't you?" Joyd asks. Then he hums impatiently, and his eyes roll upward as though trying to look inside his own mind. "It's strange. I can't hear him at all right now. Normally he's very loud. What did you do?"

Though his question is off-topic, Ezra chalks it up to another facet of his irrational behavior. "Nothing. It's because he gave you control—though you could have accomplished the same result had you overcome him yourself. That's what happened with my granddaughter. As for what they're thinking…even I don't know. They could be anywhere in the realm of consciousness—though I do sense, in one way or the other, that their souls are connected."

"Connected?" he snarls, his eyes brimming with hatred.

She doesn't bat an eyelash. "Yes. They are connected not only by their pasts, but by the fact that we are their Noah. They're like us, clinging to the only thing right now that keeps them grounded to their flesh—each other."

**Have you ever said anything more nonsensical, Ezra?**

It takes a moment for her words to sink in, but when they do Joyd reacts in just the way she expects from him. He laughs, the noise dripping with poor humor and mockery of the woman standing in front of him. She even sees tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he wipes them away before sending his deadly glare in her direction. This time it's accompanied by a twisted grin.

"It's a bit late to be saying things like that, isn't it?" he says. "You killed both me and the rest of our family, and you even tried to erase my memories of you with your manipulation. Face it, Ezra—you didn't really want to talk with me so that you could change my mind, did you? Otherwise you wouldn't have spewed such inane nonsense."

She tenses, her muscles readying themselves for battle when she sees the spark of insanity in his gaze.

"The only reason you wanted me to take over this body was to make yourself feel better about trying to kill it. Isn't that right?"

It's in this moment when Ezra fully realizes just how lost Joyd has become. He's no longer the same person he used to be, the man she enjoyed teasing and cringed at the thought of harming. No matter how much she tried to hide it back then, she never wanted so much harm to befall him. Not to the point where the concept of basic human decency alludes him. She hadn't wanted him to go through what she had, to endure what she had endured, because she had known that it would crush him. He isn't capable of doing what her and Neah had done, not without losing his mind completely...

He has become this way because of her—and it's her (and Neah's) responsibility to rectify it.

"Don't compare me to someone as self-centered as you."

With an angry snarl, Joyd dives for her throat.

* * *

It's cold here.

This much he is aware of, though he couldn't say how or why he knows, or even why it matters one way or the other. Yet the eerie nature of this realization disturbs him; his body is fine, and in actuality he would say that he is fairly comfortable. He isn't shivering, nor do goose bumps prickle across his skin like they would on a day in early spring.

(He has always, _always_ hated the cold. Maybe, he thinks, this is why he loves her so much; because she has always been so warm.)

But what he feels is not that kind of cold. This feeling stems from his chest. It comes from within his heart, almost as if there's nothing there at all. As if the beating organ has been removed entirely and replaced by what amounts to a block of ice. He wouldn't be surprised if this were the case, as he highly doubts there is anything inside of him worth salvaging. Not anymore, at least.

There isn't, he reminds himself. He already knows that he's lost any semblance of hope and love that he once thought he could reclaim, but he had also believed that he is okay with it. Isn't that why he had agreed to do this? Isn't that why he is okay with dying?

He also reminds himself that he should be accustomed to being wrong at this point. Tyki knows he has no one to blame for this predicament but himself—for getting his hopes up, for thinking that he could overcome his nature, for believing, no matter how briefly, that miracles could exist for someone like him…someone whose heart was already so blackened that it's considered all but poison to those who try to reach it.

_Like her…_

In the end, he's nothing but an idiot. A hopeless romantic who had been so misguided, so stupid and shallow, that he truly thought he could control his own fate.

In simpler terms, a fool.

"Nothing but a fool…when on earth will I learn?" he hears himself say in a dejected whisper. He is momentarily relieved when he hears his own voice; at least he knows now that wherever he is, he is still himself. He still exists, even in this pathetic form. There isn't much more he can ask for at this point, not that he thinks he deserves much else anyway.

He pauses then, and lifts his head from his bare feet—he cringes internally—to survey his surroundings. It's dark here, as well as cold, but there is something that resembles moonlight all around him. It casts a peculiar glow on the area he's in, and Tyki allows himself this opportunity to look around.

Immediately, he feels his skin start to crawl in unease. This place he's in…it's covered with thickets in some regions, while in others there are scant, spindly trees long past their prime, but the thing that most grabs his attention is the large clearing he is standing in—that, and the disturbingly familiar piles of rubble that are littered at his feet…

_Where am I?_

Though the rubble looks hauntingly familiar, he doesn't recognize anything else about this place. Besides the intuition that he knows it, there is nothing else for him to go on, nothing that provides him with the answers he desperately seeks.

He looks around again, this time with a keener eye for detail, and his eyes fall upon the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel—quite literally, in fact. He finds the way that leads out of the clearing: a thin, makeshift path, bordered by fallen leaves and foxtails, punctuated at a distance by the bright glow of a full moon…and by the young woman standing at the end of it.

_Is that…? No, it can't be…_

He doesn't believe himself for a second, and as he continues to stare at the blurred edges of her frame he finds his will to deny it slipping away. Tyki's breath catches in his throat, and without giving it much thought he steps onto the path before him, intent on following the girl who is presenting her back to him.

The closer he gets to her, the more confident he is. He knows it's her; he can feel it, and he is so relieved by this realization that he barely gives himself time to wonder why he is here with her in the first place. Anyone else would see this as being an ominous sign, but not him, and for once he is grateful. He's aware, at the edge of his consciousness, that something is wrong, but he is far less worried than he probably should be.

All he is focused on is the young woman at the end of the tunnel.

_Allen…_

She doesn't look back at him as he approaches, but Tyki is sure that she knows he's here. There is no doubt in his mind that she can sense him, but she doesn't turn back. She doesn't look at him; she doesn't even try to run away.

He slows to a pause a few feet away from her, and takes the time to observe the white-haired girl as she passively watches the moon. (He notices with a surprising lack of care that said moon is far larger than it reasonably should be. He couldn't care less, though it's certainly very beautiful. Perhaps she's thinking the same thing?)

The first thing he notices is her body; she's as bare as she could possibly be, the white glow of her pale skin nearly hurting his eyes with its brilliance. It's nearly the same shade as her hair, and if Tyki didn't know any better he might have said that she is a ghost.

He doesn't know what to say; he can't find the words he wants to express. An apology would be too awful, too meaningless. The proper words are always, always stuck in his throat, yet she doesn't care. She's always had expert patience.

The young woman turns around slowly, twists her upper body to face him, and when she looks at him his lungs feel hollow. As thankful as he is that he's seeing her alive instead of dead and bleeding out on the ground, he can't help but feel suffocated as well. The air gets trapped in his throat when he tries to breathe; apparently he is unable to do so while she is looking directly at him, but he senses that this is more of a psychological reaction than anything else.

In any case, Tyki is now certain that he is dreaming. In no universe would Allen look at him like this. She is bare and bathed in moonlight, and while this appeals to him it is slightly hampered by the fact that she's staring at him—not only that, but she's staring with a smile that is far too reminiscent of the last one she had given him.

 _That's the last straw. It must be my imagination. This can't be real_.

"Tyki."

_And now she's talking to me. I wonder why my subconscious loves torturing me so much, even if I deserve it._

_Wait a minute…she's…talking?_

Sure enough, she says his name again, just like always, with that same sad drawl that speaks volumes about the pity she feels for them both. He doesn't like it, but then again, he never has. Still, there is something about the way she says his name, something that causes the skin on the back of his neck to prickle, almost as though she is…

_No. She isn't real. This is a dream, isn't it? My guilty conscience is making me face my mistakes—she is the biggest of them, after all. It only makes sense. There's no way that the two of us…_

But no matter what he tells himself, it still sounds like _her_ , not one of his fantasies. If it were a fantasy…

…She would be happy.

"Tyki," she repeats, this time with more force. No matter how much he tries to block her out that insufferably patient _voice_ refuses to leave him alone, and in the end he finally looks back at her.

The white-haired girl's melancholy gaze makes his knees weak (he failed her, in the end, so she has reason to be upset), but oddly enough she almost looks relieved to see him—another detail that tells him this is not a dream. If she were a figment of his imagination, she would either be happy to see him or blame him for her troubles. She wouldn't—shouldn't—feel sad for him.

He clears his throat. "What is it?"

He is unprepared for her reaction; for how her silver eyes suddenly well up with tears when she hears his voice, as though she had been waiting for him for years. It's completely unpredictable, much like she herself has been lately, and it has him wondering for a moment just what he could have possibly said wrong.

"I can't believe it," she utters wistfully. "I feel terrible for saying this, but I never thought I would see you this way again."

_What way? What is she…?_

Tyki tenses, his jaw clenching as she starts to walk towards him; he is wary of her intentions (and of course, of her being so close to him with no clothes on). She herself doesn't seem to mind, and he wonders if she even notices.

"What do you mean, g—Allen?"

His near slip of the tongue doesn't faze her, and in fact the corners of her lips quirk up a bit at his hesitance. Allen pauses in front of him, and before he can tell her to stop (for her own safety, really; doesn't she realize who he is and what he's done?) she reaches out a hand to touch him.

And despite his will to protest, Tyki doesn't have the courage (cowardice) to push her away.

Soft fingers skid across his face, leaving surprising amounts of heat wherever they touch. He recalls all the other times—though they are few and far between—that she had touched him, and the novelty of it has not yet worn off. It still seems that he can never get enough of her, and distantly Tyki realizes that this is not a good thing.

"Your skin," the white-haired girl says in awe. "It's…human."

_What?_

Tyki hasn't bothered to notice such a thing, not that it matters to him anyway. But now that he takes the time to actually look, he sees that she is right. He had noticed when he first arrived here that he is barefoot, but the absence of Noah features had slipped his mind—as had the fact that he, too, is completely naked.

_How odd._

At any other time he would laugh, perhaps even make an inappropriate joke or gesture; right now this is the furthest thing from his mind, and he even makes a polite attempt to avert his eyes from Allen's nudity.

"Where are we?"

"Why are you here?"

Their words are jumbled together as they speak simultaneously, and Allen laughs lightly—his chest tightens at the sound—before answering his question.

"To be honest, I don't really know," she tells him. "I've been here before when Neah takes over my body, so I guess that answers both of our questions well enough, doesn't it?"

"And are you usually wearing clothes when you're here?" He can't help but to ask.

Her shoulders tense briefly. "...During the other times, yes. Honestly, I couldn't care less at the moment."

"…"

"Joyd took control, didn't he? And here I thought you would be able to overcome him…what happened?" The pain is fresh in her voice, and Tyki curses himself for not immediately assuaging her fears.

"He did, but I let him," he says, replaying the events in his mind. "Your…the Fifteenth asked me to."

"The Fifteenth? So that's who that was…the person who took over my body…"

He nods. "She said…"

"She said what?" Allen stares at him expectantly.

"…She said that she would save you and your child. After what Joyd—what I—did, I thought she would kill me where I stood, and it wouldn't be as though I don't deserve it. Yet she still gave me a choice…I almost killed you, but here I am, alive. How pathetic must I look for her to take pity on me?"

"Very." At his stiff expression, the young woman laughs quietly. "I'm sorry. Don't forget that I'm here too, and…and I don't think that at all."

He's in disbelief at how gentle she's being; if there were ever a time for her to cast away her even temper it would be now, when there are no repercussions for her actions. "How can you…?"

"Forgive you? That part is easy. It's watching you struggle that's the hard part."

 _Watching me struggle? Has she forgotten everything that's happened to her lately?_ Just as he had feared, she pities him. He doesn't have the heart to tell her that if she really wants someone to feel sorry for, she should go look in the mirror. He has a hunch it wouldn't get him anywhere, and in any case there are no mirrors around that he can see.

"But don't get me wrong," Allen continues, shocking him with her sudden nervous outburst. "I don't pity you, if that's what you're thinking."

_Is she reading my mind?_

"But…as much as it hurts me to admit this, I think I can understand you a lot better now. Spending all that time together and seeing how much you'd changed made me realize that there was more going on with you than what I could only see. In your own way, you were fighting against what Joyd was trying to do. You didn't want to hurt me, even when I initiated it…

"Even though you knew there would be risks to helping me, you still tried. I know you did. This was even clearer when I saw you again just now. I don't think the pain of what happened will ever go away, but…" Allen pauses, stares him dead in the eyes with a tearstained face, and his heart constricts. The tears flow freely, forming poisonous tracks on her cheeks as he struggles not to glance away out of cowardice.

"I'm sorry," she forces out, almost too quickly for him to hear. It doesn't take him long to figure out that it's not because she didn't want to say them; it's because she is crying too hard to talk properly. The words are garbled by her sobs, and just watching her try to apologize for who knows what stuns him into horrified silence.

"I'm so, so sorry, Tyki…"

 _Why is she the one apologizing? I should be_ …

"I don't know if my power's evolved," she continues, "or if it's only because I'm a Noah, but I could feel your pain. I still can. As soon as you came into the medical ward, I could sense how horrified you were behind those eyes. You didn't want to do what you did. I have a hard time believing that any of the Noah really want to obey the Earl, but you aren't given a choice. Joyd makes you do it anyway." She smiles ironically. "I can relate, and…I'm sorry that I was too blind and hateful to see it before. I want you to know that. And now I've put my daughter in danger too. There isn't... _anything_ I can do to save her, not while I'm stuck like this…"

Tyki is too baffled and pained by her speech to stop her when she suddenly embraces him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face into his chest. It makes him freeze and then thaw, first wanting to ask if she's an idiot, but then noticing with a pang that not only is she too close for comfort, but she is also warmer than he could have ever imagined. He's felt her before, obviously, but there had always been something missing, a vital element that made the whole encounter seem cheap and imperfect. Tyki isn't even referring to the times he had forced him on her; he's thinking about when she had initiated it, for even then there had been a spark of hesitance, or misery, or something else that weighed heavily on his mind all throughout.

Because it hadn't been what she truly wanted.

And then, when he was given several opportunities to help her and his unborn child, he had been unable to do anything to stop his other half from trying to kill them. A child who doesn't even know his face, who hasn't even lived a full day yet, is being threatened by its own father. Over and over again, he keeps repeating the same mistake of not being strong enough, of not having enough willpower to deal with his inner conflict. Over and over again, he does more that should make Allen curse him to the ends of the earth.

But now, here she is of her own accord, and it feels nothing like that. He may feel worse for it, but there is something about this moment that allows him to forget that fact. Here she is, comforting him even while she is the one weeping—not even over her own misfortune, but that of him and her child, as though their combined pain somehow dwarfs hers.

Has she finally gone mad? All he does is make her cry, but it's still not enough, apparently. Tyki decides that he would rather not have the answer to that last question. He's in no position to judge her sanity, not when his is questionable at best.

Right now, all that's needed of him is to comfort her, no matter how arguably ridiculous it sounds. What else is there for them to do, besides wait and hope that the Fourteenth and Fifteenth will succeed?

He hesitantly returns her embrace, allowing his hands to skim across her back in a halfhearted attempt to pacify the young woman. He isn't quite sure what else to do; has he ever done anything like this before, at least to this extent?

"Why are you crying for me?" he whispers into her hair, almost afraid to know the answer. "I've ruined everything, you know."

Unlike him, there is no hesitation in her voice when she answers.

"Because no one else ever has."

He wonders how many hearts he possesses that the white-haired girl can so easily break them all.

Contrary to what anyone else might think, what Tyki does next is not out of perversion; he isn't distracted by her nudity, or even by the fact that Allen is so close to him. It's less of an act of lust and more of one driven by—dare he say it—affection. He is still mildly uncomfortable with using that word, but to hell with it.

Idly wondering if he's about to make another mistake, he tilts her face upwards and covers her mouth with his.

It's difficult to put into words (particularly since he half-expects Allen to hit him, and a part of him even wants her to) but all Tyki can think about is that this time it's _different_. He recoils from the thought of comparing it to all the others times he's kissed her, whether by force or not, though there is still a bittersweet feeling that permeates the air. She must feel it too, because although she isn't pushing him away or resisting, Tyki feels her hands clench into fists from where they sit against his neck.

He thinks about stopping, and is about to do just that when the white-haired girl does something he had always hoped for, but never expected.

Even though she doesn't have to, and this time is nothing like all the others—when she had been trying to forget her pain instead of confronting it—she hesitantly returns the gesture. Her mouth moves tentatively against his, and he senses when she fully relaxes into his embrace rather than rejects it.

Tyki wonders if she's thinking the same thing as him. She must know as well as he does that these might be (probably are) their last moments. If the Fourteenth and Fifteenth fail, there's no way that the two of them will survive. She will die, and he will be consumed by his Noah.

Maybe that's where Allen's sudden regret is coming from: the fact that she knows she might be dead soon, and she's doing whatever she can possibly do to fix what she sees as mistakes. In her mind, she probably even views her own death as a failure.

If returning his affections is her way of both apologizing and seeking comfort in her final moments, then it's not really his place to question it. (No matter how wrong she is to say sorry in the first place.) He wants so badly to deny the possibility that she'll be gone, that she will leave him alone, but he can't. At least she believes now that she is doing what's right, and Tyki knows there is a part of her that wants it to happen. Even if she tries to deny it (but he doesn't think she'll be doing much of that, anyway) her bright eyes tell him otherwise.

He tries not to seem overly eager as they fumble among their surroundings. They're still standing in the clearing, and as Allen's grip tightens on his hair—he winces a bit at her strength—he decides to kiss her throat. She arches against him, thanks to his superior height, and neither of them can resist the urge to let out a muffled laugh against each other's skin.

"Sorry," she says, and he can't hide the sneaking suspicion that she's apologizing for something more than her lack of height.

"For what?" he asks against her throat, his own heart warming at the way she shivers against him. "You have nothing to apologize for. You never did."

"But I…"

"I don't want to hear you take the blame anymore," he interrupts as the tips of his fingers dance across her hips. "You always tried to relieve others' pain, but you never cared about your own. The only time you did, it ended up hurting you more, because you have no healthy way to vent it." He tears his face away from her throat so he can look into her eyes. "Neither did I, but I realize now what I've been doing wrong this whole time."

"And that is?"

"I never confessed it to anyone. I kept all of it bottled up inside, and when I let it out it manifested as violence. You did the same thing, only for you it manifested as self-sacrifice and mental instability."

"I don't think you're one to talk about mental instability."

In spite of himself, Tyki grins at her. "You're right about that, but I _can_ talk about a more positive way of releasing all of that pent-up stress."

It had been mostly a joke; he would be wrong if he said it doesn't give him a sick sense of pleasure to see her blush, but he resists his inclination to continue teasing her. "Do you have to say it out loud?" she stutters. "I mean, I assumed that's what we were doing…"

He raises an eyebrow. "Do you want to?"

"…You're asking me?"

He nods, and nearly panics when he sees her eyes tear up again. What had he said wrong this time? Just a moment ago she had been teasing him, and now she's acting as though he had insulted her. For all he knows, he could have; he isn't entirely sure how to act around her right now, what with having no practice with sensitivity. All of his attempts thus far have been horribly awkward. "...Are you all right?" he tries, hating how inept he sounds.

The white-haired girl nods jerkily, wiping her eyes as she tries to hide her face from him. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just…it makes me really happy to hear that, especially from you, since…"

He understands without further explanation.

* * *

It gets tiring quickly, doing nothing but evading his attacks. It's been a while since she's fought, and she has yet to grow accustomed to this new body. Ezra can't imagine what it would be like if she were placed into a body she had no connection to whatsoever.

**You can't avoid him forever. You have to do something.**

_I'm fully aware of that._

With Neah's advice in mind, she dodges Joyd's next blow for the most part, but allows the skin of her shoulder to be caught by the edges of his dark matter. Up until now she has been letting his attacks slide past, but hasn't bothered to aim her own.

This time, she'll send him a warning.

**Even though you should be killing him? In the end, whether or not his vessel survives means nothing.**

Before the cut can fully form on her shoulder, it shrinks, vanishing as though it were never there.

 _Sorry about this_.

Joyd suddenly winces, and though her own pain is gone she winces with him. She's never relished hurting others, and he is no exception in spite of his past actions.

He clutches his arm with a baffled expression, and the tips of his fingers come away with blood on them. "How did you…?" His eyes darken then, and just from watching him she can see the cogs in his brain turning faster than before—much faster than she would have thought. She _had_ tried to erase his memories of her, after all, and for a good reason.

Evidently it hadn't worked well.

"Ah, I remember now," he sighs, the dark matter in his palm diffusing. "You killed me back then in the same way, didn't you? I always did wonder what your powers were, since none of the others had ever seen you use them. Now I see why you didn't show anybody."

Ezra stays rooted to her spot, not speaking a word in her own defense.

"And I have to tell you—I'm glad your title finally makes sense. You're a true Empath, aren't you?" He takes a step closer, and though his calm aura unnerves her, the woman tries to maintain as relaxed as possible. "You feel other peoples' emotions—and not only that, but their physical sensations as well. And you can control them. But of course, you're too sensitive to actually want to _harm_ anyone, aren't you? I'll bet that you just sat on the sidelines while Neah slaughtered our family. I'll bet that you even tried to convince them it was all for the best."

 _This is bad. He's not losing control…he's gaining it_. Neah, to her utmost gratitude, stays silent. "What are you going to do about it, then?" she asks. "Now that you know you can't kill me without it backfiring, do you plan on running away?"

His eyes narrow dangerously at her. "Bitch," he snarls, sheer anger sending chills down her spine and flooding through her own veins. "You never planned on taking this fight seriously, did you? If that were the case, you would have let me land a lethal blow just now, and I would already be dead. Could it be that…you don't actually want to kill me?"

**Like that wasn't obvious already.**

_Maybe to you, but not to him. He's been festering with hate for a long time now_.

"I never wanted to kill anyone," is all she says in response.

Joyd takes another step forward, his smiling face all but psychotic. "It seems that you actually intend on keeping your promise, but we've all seen how fights like this end."

With her keen hearing, Ezra picks up the distant echo of a pair of disjointed footsteps racing towards their location.

"If you don't come at me seriously, Ezra, it won't just be us who get hurt. There may end up being other casualties—like some of the other exorcists…or maybe even that baby so cleverly hidden in the drawer…"

In a split second, the woman's eyes catch sight of said drawer, the one sitting at the foot of the nearby cot. It's innocent and unassuming, all but for the suddenly obvious fact that the lid is tilted diagonally—presumably to leave air for someone else to breathe…

She whips around, and Joyd's tensed muscles are enough for her to deduce his next course of action—as is the bloodlust raging inside of him. She figures that, in hindsight, what she does next cannot be entirely blamed on Neah's instincts; as much as she doesn't want to admit it to him, the recollection of her own failures as a mother are sufficient to convince her to take all manners of illogical actions.

And she does.

" _No_!"

_Neah, help me…_

She senses it as his ability takes hold of her, envelops her as it forms a metaphorical layer around them both, protecting her from being subjected to Joyd's rejection.

Joyd springs forward, and Ezra mirrors his action. They collide with each other, and Joyd's hands lock around her throat and arm while one of her own manages to plant itself in the middle of his chest. Even without applying much force, it's enough. She gasps as a surge of power gathers in her palm—but it doesn't feel like anything she's experienced before. It looks and feels slightly reminiscent to dark matter, but with more concentrated energy than she has seen even Joyd himself use. All she knows is that, if she were to try to control this sheer amount of energy, it would blow up in her face.

Yet the most shocking thing to her is that Neah handles it as if it's nothing.

_Neah, what are you doing?_

What happens then is almost too fast for her eyes to make out. Air flows rapidly against her face, and she closes her eyes against the dizzying speed that carries them away.

When next she opens them, they are across the room. The wall rumbles beneath Joyd's back, but at first he doesn't move; no doubt he was caught off guard by Neah's attack and unable to activate his own power in time. Cracks are webbed around him from the force with which he was slammed into the surface, but they don't stop there. Instead of slowing down, the cracks start to form faster, spreading with unprecedented speed to the walls on either side and up to the ceiling.

 _Destruction_ …

A glimpse of Joyd's manic grin turns her stomach even more than Neah's warning display had.

"Now you've done it, Neah," he hisses, his crazed eyes telling quite clearly just how much he despises the other man. "I've been waiting for you most of all. It's about time we all settled this, don't you think?"

"What a coincidence," she hears herself say, though the words are out of her control. "I was thinking the same thing."

The whine of a newborn emerges in the background at the same time the stranger's footsteps reach the room they're in, and without thinking Ezra forces out a final request.

"You!" she exclaims to the intruder—a young girl with short green hair—"get the baby and _run_."

Even with her aghast expression the girl looks familiar, though right now Ezra can't pinpoint from where she knows her; yet here she is, pinning all her hopes on the possibility that she is strong enough to help. Innocence radiates from her legs, and the exorcist uniform more than anything else tells Ezra of the young woman's allegiance.

She cannot hide her relief when, instead of being appalled by her appearance, the girl responds with, "I'll do better than that."

The girl sprints towards the child just as Ezra looks back at her opponent, catching a gleam of his insanity in the way he smiles (glares) at her.

And in the instant before Joyd aims for her chest, she hesitates.

* * *

With how sensitive she is, it's extremely easy to drive her insane. It amazes Tyki just how responsive she is to every touch, how she shudders every time he whispers her name into her ear, and he would be lying if he said it didn't arouse him as well. He can't help but to want to tease her, and she isn't one to complain unless he's taking too long.

For a while afterwards they simply stare at each other, with her lying on top of him on the cool ground, and he warms at the sight of the twinkle in Allen's eye. He tries to forget the hint of sadness in her features as well, because he knows that it will only end up ruining the moment for him.

And despite all possibility, he wants this moment to last forever.

"This is so strange," she mumbles as she threads a lock of his dark hair around her finger. Her touch elicits a shiver from the man beneath her. "You look so different as a human."

Suddenly feeling coy (and eager to erase all traces of seriousness), he grins up at her. "If all I needed to do to win you over was look human, I should have just stayed a poor miner all the time."

It's meant to be a joke, but he finds himself at a loss when the white-haired girl leans closer to him. She smiles with sad eyes and says, "That may have worked, you know. I did like you when we first met."

"Did you?"

Allen nods tentatively, her cheeks a rosy shade to display her embarrassment. "Even though you tried to cheat Krory out of all his belongings, I couldn't help but feel that you weren't all that bad. I thought I was just a terrible judge of character since I couldn't tell what you were, but now I realize that my instinct wasn't wrong. You do have some good in you, and I…"

Tyki holds his breath, his nerves fraught with the tension of waiting for her to finish her sentence. What is she trying to say? (What does she feel for him?)

He can't help but to selfishly want the answer.

Just as she's about to speak, the young woman stiffens, and her silver eyes are wide as if she had been stabbed. Her unspoken confession becomes a startled gasp as she clutches her side, and all he can read in her posture is that she is somehow in pain. When he tries to grab her, she pulls away.

"Allen?" he snaps, his hands hanging in the empty air as he attempts to figure out what to do. _What's happening to her?_ "Where does it hurt?" He tries to grab her arm gently, and this time she makes no effort to shake him off; she curls in on herself, her face angled towards her lap as she speaks in a hushed tone.

"I…I don't know," she confesses, her tortured voice causing an ache to form in his chest. "But…something's wrong."


	42. A Bringer of Havoc

_Is this it? Is this the end? Were the Fourteenth and Fifteenth still not strong enough to put a stop to the Earl's madness?_

_Did we fail?_

She loathes the idea of admitting it, doesn't want to believe that all they've done so far has been for nothing, but the pain in her side tells her otherwise. It could just be an isolated blow, nothing to worry about—hardly a reason for such defeatist thoughts—but Allen fears being too optimistic when it will barely serve her now. It had helped before, no matter how small the effect was, because she had believed in her success. She had been determined enough to push through bad situations even when the odds were stacked against her.

But here, she isn't doing anything, can't see what's going on, and has no idea what she _can_ do (if anything) to help either Neah or her friends…

Panic flows over her, a bitter wave among brief respite, but she struggles to push through it; yes, even if she can't do anything physically, she can't afford to lose her head. Not now. She's sure it would be the death of her—and of a few other people, too.

_But still…what is going on? I can't see what Neah and my grandmother are seeing. I don't have the faintest clue what they're doing, but I can feel their pain—at least, I think I can._

In some ways, this situation is even worse than when she had been stuck as a powerless spectator in her own body. It may not be much, but if she were able to see what was happening in the real world, the agony of not knowing would be alleviated. No matter how bad the situation is, it's always better to know, isn't it? Ignorance is a gift given only to those who can afford it, and Allen isn't one of them.

But this way, she has no way of knowing if any of her friends—or her daughter—are safe, and this is the most painful truth of all.

Then she remembers that she isn't alone, and Allen sends a quick glance upwards. She sees Tyki still hovering above her crouched form, eyes full of concern and hands held at the ready to catch her if she collapses.

_Of course…he must be suffering worse than me. He's in the same situation, only his Noah is trying to kill me. At least I can say that my Noah are on my side, even if it's only because we have a mutual goal. What must it be like, to have something so sinister inside of you? Someone who's trying to destroy everything you care about? I can't imagine…_

She allows herself to give him a fake reassuring smile, and though she has a feeling that it hurts him more than it helps him, there isn't much else she can do like this. She's trying her hardest right now not to grimace, and she can't tell whether or not it's because of the physical pain or the emotional empathy she feels for the man beside her.

"Allen…" Tyki says, voice low and pleading, "…is there anything I can…?"

The white-haired girl shakes her head before he finishes, releases a sigh as the throbbing in her side starts to dull to a tolerable ache. "It's not down to you," she reminds him. "You can't do anything, so don't worry."

"But I'm the one who's hurting you; I know it!"

"It's not you," she repeats, gritting her teeth. "This is…my family's responsibility."

"Family?" he echoes, the word sounding foreign as it flows off his lips. "I get a sense of déjà vu, hearing that. The tables really have turned, haven't they?"

Allen closes her eyes and clenches her jaw, praying that somehow, her words will reach the other two beings inside of her—because if she has to sit here in placid ignorance for much longer, she may go insane. Distantly, she feels the Innocence at her side hum to life, brought out of dormancy by her will to act.

_Neah…Ezra…let me help you._

* * *

It hurts, but she's used to pain. She has felt the pain of others countless times, felt the last air being drawn into their lungs, felt their life slowly ebb away as they stare up at the receding sky.

She never gets used to it.

Even so, Ezra manages to escape the worst of Joyd's impact by sliding to the side, and his nails only succeed in reaching an inch beneath her skin. Though she barely feels his touch, it's enough to draw a significant amount of blood from her new wound, and it only adds to her fatigue.

But she refuses to let up, and continues to trade blows that never land with her old friend, desperate for anything that will keep him distracted from the young woman holding her granddaughter's child. Out of the corner of her eye, Ezra sees the short-haired girl dart speedily out of the line of fire, and she silently thanks whatever deity is looking out for them.

It seems that Joyd notices her sagging posture, because he snorts derisively.

"How much longer can you keep this up without really fighting back?" he tells her. "All you have to do is touch me."

 _That's right. Keep your eyes on me._ Already she can feel the wound in her side trying to close itself, but she doesn't dare to try to pass the rest of it off to Joyd. No matter how strong he is, she doesn't want to risk the chance of hurting him too badly. A scratch is one thing, but blood is still pouring from her wound.

 _It's all right_ , she tells herself, just as Neah does the same. _It will be fine. All we have to do is keep distracting him, and eventually we'll be able to disable him. Then we can go find the Earl._

**Neah…Ezra…**

She almost hesitates, but manages to avoid another one of Joyd's blows.

_What on earth…?_

**Let me help you**.

" _Allen-chan! Watch out!"_

Evidently she had been more distracted than she thought, because Ezra narrowly avoids getting skewered through the chest yet again. Another hit like that would end her for sure, and if not just her, then the both of them.

To her horror, she watches as Joyd turns on his heels like before, only this time he is heading towards the person standing in the doorway: the same young exorcist girl who had called out to her, her eyes full of concern and arms cradling her great-granddaughter.

_Why is she still here? I told her to run…so she refuses to leave her friend behind, even when this body isn't her own? I can understand that—but she's putting my family in jeopardy, and that is something I cannot stand for._

She sprints after Joyd, but her speed leaves something to be desired; blood still trickles from her newest wound, and the only thing keeping her from collapsing due to her injuries is Neah's presence. Fortunately the exorcist girl is already a few steps ahead of them, and she turns tail as soon as she sees the male Noah's eyes on her.

Ezra emerges into the hallway just in time to see the girl kick down once, and both Noah halt momentarily as part of the floor caves in in response.

_What strength…is that because of the Innocence?_

The instant the dust clears she sees her, short hair plastered to the sides of her face as she flies down the hallway with grace the older woman hadn't foreseen.

And though he can't move nearly as fast, Joyd is already hot on her trail.

 _Damn!_ As soon as she regains her bearings, she takes off after them, unable to resist the urge to curse her luck. _Please, young lady, don't do anything foolish._

If only she could say the same for herself.

* * *

This isn't looking good for him.

Cuts and burns are scattered all over his body, his muscles drained nearly to the point of exhaustion. Surely someone of lesser strength would have collapsed by now, but he's always been more stubborn than most. His katana has taken severe damage as well, the hilt peppered with several cracks that leave it hanging precariously by a thread. He's almost afraid that it will shatter with further use, though he doesn't want to admit it. Mugen has never failed him yet.

Yet the large Noah in front of him is still grinning grotesquely at him, his armored skin dulled and cracked but not destroyed. Had all of those hits still not been enough?

No, it's not looking good for him, but he's far from giving up. In the distance he can hear Cross practically annihilating the twins; they had never stood much of a chance against him, anyway. No matter what powers they have, he had always assumed it would be a mostly one-sided fight, as most battles with the General involved tend to be.

Suddenly, Kanda's trained ears twitch when he picks up a new sound, an odd noise that reminds him vaguely of rushing water…

_Lenalee?_

He gapes upward as, seemingly out of nowhere, the high wall explodes outward, and in the falling debris he sees his friend, her face hidden and arms tucked around something he can't see. The realization that he is right is quickly tempered by a sense of urgency, as he has to move rapidly just to avoid being struck by the shattered stone as it lands. Dimly, he can hear his opponent roaring in anger as he fails to do the same.

_Moron._

The samurai looks back up, sees the Chinese girl as she weaves her way around the destroyed wall expertly, keeping her head tucked to her chest the entire time.

_What is she doing?_

Kanda's eyes widen when he notices someone else jump through the newly gaping hole. A quick glance, a glimpse of curly hair and gray skin is all he needs to see to deduce what's going on.

" _Lenalee! Down here!"_

She must hear his voice, because she twists in midair and turns just in time to avoid the curly-haired Noah's grab; but still, her arms don't move as she speeds away and heads in his direction, leaving the Noah to be concealed by the dust.

She reaches him in less than a second, so fast that even he isn't able to track her movements, and before he knows it she is standing behind him, huffing wildly as she attempts to catch her ragged breath.

Kanda doesn't spare any time to ask if she's all right; his eyes are glued with fury to the new Noah standing in front of him, Skin Bolic long forgotten as he tries to fight his way out of the debris that now divides the room.

It's _him_ —the man he despises more than anything. He had disappeared a while ago, and the samurai is livid at the thought of whatever he had been doing all that time. If he's not mistaken, then he looks even more devious than when he had last seen him, eyes full of sadistic pleasure and a vicious smile that could even put the Earl's mask to shame.

"Well then," he drawls, "I never thought I would run into you while chasing her. You have a nasty habit of protecting my targets, samurai—but it's a shame you weren't able to do so a few minutes ago."

He freezes, ice seeping into his bones as he processes the other man's words. _The Moyashi…_

"What did you do?" It's hardly a question, but a deadly whisper, one that would surely cause a normal person to step back out of self-preservation.

But far from being frightened, the Noah smiles at him. "Nothing she didn't ask me for."

" _What did you do?_ " he repeats, his voice now booming across the room. Everything else seems to fall deathly silent.

The other man pointedly avoids the question, though it's obvious to Kanda that he would like to answer it; his eyes tilt upwards and sneak a glance behind him, the gesture matching the Noah's cheeky smile. It makes the Japanese man want to tear him to shreds—not that he didn't want to do that already—and he actively tries to restrain himself from following through with his instincts.

It isn't easy.

Finally, with a taunting flourish, the curly-haired man smiles.

"Why don't you see for yourself?"

Before Kanda has a chance to ask what the hell he's babbling about, he catches a quiver of movement out of the corner of his eye; someone else makes it through the gaping hole Lenalee had created, and for a moment he is confused, because he's never seen this new Noah before, though she looks uncomfortably familiar to someone else…

But then he recognizes her, and his eyes go wide, his jaw goes slack, and for one terrible instant all he can think is that _it's too late_ —that, in trying to protect the Order, he had failed to protect one of the people most important to him.

_It's too late._

He had known, of course; he had listened when Cross and the Moyashi told him about her being a Noah. There's no point in denying that, and acting surprised about it will get him nowhere. But knowing about it and seeing it in real life are two different things. What a person thinks they can handle is often woefully inaccurate compared to what they actually can, something he knows from personal experience. He's told other people (Finders, mostly) this many times, and he's watched most of them get killed or run off not long after. He always scoffed at their ineptitude and unearned pride afterwards.

As it turns out, though, he is no better. He had believed—or perhaps merely not wanted to accept the contrary—that he was prepared for this, to face reality and to see the white-haired girl in the form of one of his enemies. After all, just because she possesses the skin of a Noah doesn't make her any less of an exorcist, and it doesn't make her any less of the woman he cares about. She would still be herself.

But this…is not what he had envisioned.

As he watches the young woman jump through the opening in the wall, landing lithely on her feet not far behind the curly-haired Noah, Kanda realizes fully how idiotic and naïve he had been. Of course, _of course_ she isn't going to look the same—because she isn't. No matter which way he tries to perceive it, which angle he looks at her, he can't see the woman in front of him as being anything other than what she appears to be—a Noah. His trained mind won't allow it.

He had overestimated his own willpower. Not only that, he had also underestimated the dominance of the Noah gene; though her hair is the same pure white it has always been, it now only serves to contrast with and highlight her piercing golden eyes— _not silver_ —and disturbingly gray skin, so much like that of the man he despises. Coupled with the haunting, emotionless gaze she wears, it makes for the image of a stranger.

It makes him sick.

"Kanda…" Lenalee says from behind him, her voice an obvious attempt at consolation. He ignores her.

"Quite a surprise, isn't it?" Tyki Mikk says, looking back and forth between the two of them. "I'll bet you never thought you'd see the woman you loved stoop to a monster's level, did you?"

_A monster…_

"If it makes you feel any better, that isn't her, anyway."

His fists clench, sending a jolt of pain up his already injured arm.

"Allen Walker is long gone, exorcists."

Lenalee inhales sharply, takes a brave step forward. "You're lying!" she accuses the male Noah; Kanda still doesn't look at her, doesn't dare to agree with her. His eyes are still attached to the white-haired girl's impassive face.

"You're right."

He startles at the sound of her voice, and in that moment the reality of the situation is driven home. Though this woman sounds like the Moyashi—unquestionably—there is an odd aura to her voice, an aspect that sends uncanny chills up his spine.

She steps forward. "You'd be wise to disregard what Joyd says," she tells them. "It's true that I am not the person you know as Allen, but she isn't gone. She's still here with me."

Kanda's chest tightens, wanting so badly to believe such a lie…

"Young lady," the woman continues, "is the child unharmed?"

His eyes snap towards the Chinese girl. In the confusion, he at first believes that he must have misheard what the female Noah had said, even though it should be obvious. Though the implication had slipped his mind (thanks to the mental blow of seeing the Moyashi as a Noah), he isn't blind; he can plainly see that the bump that had symbolized pregnancy is no longer present beneath the white-haired girl's clothes. In the midst of the battle, he had nearly forgotten about her going into labor earlier.

Then he pales when he looks at Lenalee, and finally her posture and behavior makes sense. The blatant way her arms are wrapped around her chest, shielding whatever she is holding from view—all but for the hints of a small blanket peeking out from between her limbs, and the small bulge that protrudes from it…

Kanda swallows, his throat suddenly dry, as Lenalee offers a tentative nod to the strange woman. "She's fine," she whispers, her eyes scanning briefly over the quiet bundle, wide and paranoid as they flit from person to person.

 _She_ …

"Are you sure about that? She's being awfully quiet," the curly-haired Noah mocks, his gaze predatory as he examines the covered newborn in Lenalee's arms. "With the way you flew through the air, I wouldn't be surprised if the poor thing died of shock. It would make my job a bit easier, anyway."

Fury swells in Kanda's veins, not just for himself and his desire for revenge, but for the nonchalant way this man talks about his own daughter's death, as though it not only doesn't matter but would actually be a preferable outcome. Even after how the Moyashi had suffered to make sure her child would survive, how she had hoped to save her attacker's soul—not that Kanda believes he has one at this point—this man has the audacity to spit over all she had done. As though none of it matters, as though it's more amusing and futile than anything else. Like her feelings for him and the child she carried mean nothing at all.

He wants to destroy him. He wants to—

"Step away from her, Joyd."

Allen's voice rings out, loud and full of iron command that even takes him aback. Joyd, as she refers to him—he wonders if that's his Noah name—turns an annoyed glance in her direction, his brows narrowed in obvious defiance.

"And do you still plan on trying to stop me?" he asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Honestly, it's painful just having to look at you. You're barely standing as it is. You wouldn't last another minute the way you are now." He sends her a sharp-toothed grin. "Unless you use your power on me, you're done for, dear."

This is it; this is his chance. The Noah isn't looking at him. If he could just take a few steps forward, he could catch him off guard. Forget about the fact that he's already injured from his fight with Skin Bolic; it's not as though adrenaline hasn't carried him through a fight before. He doesn't care how hurt he gets, so long as he gets to see Tyki Mikk suffer just as much in return. He could do this. He could—

He pauses then, feels a sense of grave unease writhe within him beyond his control. On instinct, he looks at the white-haired girl, and a cold sweat breaks out on his forehead from the sheer intensity of her gaze. Despite the fact that it isn't directed at him—she doesn't even appear to be taking notice of him—he feels as though she is. Kanda is well aware of how illogical it sounds, but it's almost like she is carefully watching his every move, scrutinizing his inner turmoil, and knows exactly what direction his thoughts are taking—what he's thinking of doing.

But how? Surely she can't read minds as well; he remembers hearing that one of the Noah whom the Moyashi had seen during her captivity possesses such an ability; Sheril Kamelot had told them all that he wore an odd scarf wrapped around his forehead to cover his five eyes. Kanda even remembers catching a glimpse of someone who met that description before the fight had started, though admittedly he hadn't been his center of attention. This Noah, the one possessing Allen's body, is not he. So how is she able to read him so easily? Not only that, but it's as though he can hear her arguing against him, telling him to stay put.

 _Don't attack him_ , he can almost hear her say in a patient voice. _Don't do anything yet. You don't really want to, even if your anger tells you to. You don't want to get hurt, do you? You don't want to put your friend and Allen's child in danger_...

_What is this?_

"Are you the Fourteenth?" he blurts out, unable to bite his tongue any longer. It should be obvious, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to hear a verbal confirmation that doesn't come from Cross.

Two pairs of golden eyes are suddenly back on him, and in the first pair he detects a hint of…recognition?

 _Probably because of the Moyashi's memories._ The thought once again makes his stomach turn.

"The Fourteenth?" she echoes. "Yes and no. I am a part of the body that houses the Fourteenth, but I am also my own Noah—the Fifteenth."

At that, his stomach plummets to his feet, and behind him he hears Lenalee release a gasp. "It can't be…"

"You're…" he mumbles, words escaping his grasp, "the Fifteenth? How…?" _How is that possible? There are only supposed to be thirteen Noah in the first place!_

"What—do you seriously believe that there can only ever be thirteen Noah?" the curly-haired man ridicules him, his amused tone reawakening the spikes of rage in the samurai's heart. "Just because there have only been thirteen that you know of doesn't mean there can't be more. You should have realized this when you learned about the Fourteenth. All humans are related to the Noah Clan, after all, though only a select few are worthy of the title. Why do you think you exorcists are so weak compared to us?" His grin widens, becomes a derisive sneer that makes Kanda want nothing more than to strangle it off of his face.

"It's because you refuse to see the bigger picture," he continues. "The Noah are the true chosen ones, and those who try to oppose us will only end up getting themselves killed for their efforts. You should have realized that by now, eh, samurai? How many times will I have to kill your friends to get it through your thick skull?"

He doesn't think he can hold himself back any longer, even with the Fifteenth silently telling him to mind his place. Kanda doesn't think he has ever wanted anyone dead as much as he does the curly-haired Noah; it eats away at his heart, Mugen shaking in his grasp as he glares daggers at the man teasing him. The fact that he doesn't look perturbed in the slightest makes it worse. It's as if he's saying that he has no reason to fear him, that he's powerless to defeat him in battle. The latter might have been true at one point—in fact, he knows it was—and in his state it might even be true now. No matter how strong he becomes, this Noah will never see him as a threat worth disposing of, only as a nuisance fit to torture. The fact that he's continued to torment Allen is proof of that.

Then, to his surprise, his shaking stops when he hears the Moyashi's voice.

"What nonsense," she sighs, her eyes full of…sadness? Resignation? Kanda can't tell whether or not it's genuine, but her posture reminds him so much of the Moyashi that it's hard to look away.

"Oh?" Joyd drawls.

"If the Noah were truly meant to be the world's saviors…"

Quite suddenly, the invisible chains that bind him lighten, as though the woman is finally giving him permission to move. It's not a tangible feeling, but he senses it nonetheless.

What's going on? Does she trust him to restrain himself now? His hatred hasn't dissipated, but at the moment the young woman is dominating his attention. He wonders if she can tell. _Probably_.

"…then there wouldn't be a reason for the exorcists to exist in the first place," she finishes. "More than that, there wouldn't be a reason for the Fourteenth or Fifteenth to be born at all."

As he watches her, the Japanese man finds himself paralyzed for another reason. He watches, stock-still and breathless, as the white-haired girl's arm gives off a powerful green glow, the same one he had not seen in far too long—though this time, it is exponentially more powerful.

 _It's…her Innocence. She can control it? A Noah can control an exorcist's Innocence…?_ He's never heard of such a thing happening, not in all of his time at the Order.

"How…how are you doing that?" Joyd snaps, taking a step back as the young woman pins him with an emotionless stare. As for Kanda, he doesn't seem to be capable of moving at all. "You may possess the body of an exorcist, but that doesn't make you one! You shouldn't be able to control her Innocence. It should be rejecting you…why?"

Kanda doesn't like that his thoughts mirror the Noah's, but he has to admit he is just as curious, if not more so. He is sure that, were Lenalee not in a silent shock much like him, she would be asking the same thing.

"She wants to help us," the woman says as she raises her left arm, freeing the limb from the confines of her cloak. It's glowing entirely green now, pulsing with light, and Kanda can practically feel the power radiating from it as it struggles to reform itself in the presence of its new accommodator.

"My granddaughter knows the value of working with others, unlike you," she tells the curly-haired Noah. "Instead of shunning us, she's given her power to us of her own free will. Because we will not control her will by force, she wants to help. Can you say the same?"

The other Noah stays tellingly silent.

"And yes," she goes on, "while it's true that I am not an exorcist, there is someone else here who was, and he is the one with the ability to control her Innocence."

Kanda watches with a degree of sick satisfaction as Joyd's eyes widen, true hesitation—and, to his shock, even a bit of fear—on his features for perhaps the first time.

"The Fourteenth," he whispers breathlessly.

And then he is too enraptured to focus on anything else, unable to move as he witnesses the Innocence fully enshroud the white-haired girl's body. Tendrils of white, so bright that it hurts his eyes, encase her, the silver mask descends over her eyes, and he can't rid himself of the automatic comparison to an angel. He gapes, open-mouthed, as she reaches over to grasp her own wrist.

When the blinding light clears the first thing he sees is her, and his first thought is that he had been wrong in his original comparison; rather than looking like a traditional angel, the image he has of her is more akin to that of an angel of death.

With her billowing white cloak and spiked hair, her face hidden from full view, and, to his surprise, an oversized sword at her side, Kanda doesn't think he has ever been as intimidated by her.

_That sword…it's her arm. How is that possible? Her Innocence…it evolved? And it looks familiar, too…_

"The Earl…"

Kanda glances to his right, sees the stunned expression on Joyd's face, and can't help but to begrudgingly agree with the assessment. As much as he hates to think it, it's hard not to compare her to the Order's archenemy. Much in the way his presence tends to dominate the room he's in, the Japanese man is receiving a similar—if not identical—aura from her now, a fact that disturbs him more than anything else about the situation.

_I've never seen anything like this before. I only thought that she was a Noah, but this…this is something else. Did you know about this too, Cross? Did you know exactly what your apprentice was, or were you just as clueless as us?_

He has a hard time believing the latter.

_Allen…_

"My, my!"

Adrenaline surges through his veins again at the sound of the newcomer, at once familiar and daunting in his enthusiastic cry. Truly, the Earl's voice never fails to put him on edge, what with it being so difficult to discern true malice from playful teasing.

 _Where is he?_ His disembodied voice seems to come from nowhere, and he holds Mugen closer unconsciously.

"It seems our Allen Walker has finally given into her dark side, ne? I must confess that I've been waiting quite a long time for it to happen. I very nearly lost my patience, you two!"

Kanda stiffens as the Earl's accent swells, and without a conscious cue his eyes snap upwards to stare at the flicker of movement that captures them. A shard of light emerges from thin air, and only seconds later the source of the voice steps through it.

_You…_

The Millennium Earl hovers high above their heads, the familiar (and annoying) pumpkin-headed umbrella making for a comical and contrasting introduction. His mask is lit up with a jovial gleam as he stares down at them, his gaze focused solely on the white-haired woman.

"Earl," she greets; there is no emotional inflection in her tone. "I see you've decided to abandon your other puppets."

"Abandon? Of course not. I left Wisely there to keep an eye on them. Is that any way to greet someone you haven't seen in years?"

"Not at all," she concedes. "I've been waiting in silence for you for a long time, though, so I'm afraid my patience is wearing thin."

"I can see that," the large man agrees, nodding his head enthusiastically. "So have I, you know. But of course you do; you should know me better than anyone. You two always were some of my favorites—sorry, Joyd—but to be honest, Neah's betrayal was the one that hurt the most. Would you mind if I talked to him, Ezra-chan?"

_Ezra-chan? That must be her name—that's an odd title for a Noah, isn't it? It sounds like a human name._

To her credit, the woman pins the Earl with a cold glance. "Neither of us is in the mood for games. It's about time we ended this war once and for all, Lord Millennium."

Without blinking or breaking her stare, Ezra raises the oversized sword, holding it in front of her as though she is wielding something as light as a toothbrush. Kanda would have spared some time to be impressed were it not for the circumstances.

"Lord Millennium!" Joyd objects, tensing as if ready to spring at the other Noah. "Allow me to—"

"Oh?" the Earl coos, interrupting the man. "I wouldn't recommend attacking her without knowing what that sword can do, Joyd. You might get hurt." He glances back at the white-haired woman, his gaze full of renewed interest. "Ezra, Neah—you've evolved her Innocence already, have you? I must say I'm impressed, but not surprised. You two have always worked very well together." Then, barely a moment later, the large man's mood seems to darken, and one would be hard-pressed not to take painful notice of the sudden shift in atmosphere, the stifling chill that permeates the air.

Everybody has gone still and silent, including Joyd, and are now watching the Earl with wary eyes. None of them, it seems, want to risk further antagonizing the man, and for Kanda's part he can't figure out what had caused the mood swing in the first place.

"That sword…" the Earl mutters quietly. "How did you come by it?"

 _The sword? What's he talking about?_ It takes a few seconds for him to figure it out, and when he does it's as if a light bulb has gone off inside his head _. That's right_ , he recalls, wanting to slap himself for not noticing sooner. _That sword—it belongs to the Earl, doesn't it? Or at least it looks remarkably similar to the one he wields. How was she able to obtain one?_

_And, more importantly, what kind of abilities does it have?_

"It wasn't me," Ezra admits. "At least not entirely. Have you forgotten, Lord Millennium? That Neah and I are the only ones who can stand against you?" She takes a step back, points the tip of her sword straight up at the object of her ire. "Well, I must admit that Neah is stronger, but together, we are more powerful than you could ever imagine."

* * *

"Allen!"

She opens her eyes, brought deeper into her consciousness by the sound of her name, and finds herself staring into Tyki's worried gaze. She tries to reassure him with a glance, paranoid that expending any more effort will distract her from what is happening in the real world.

_I need to focus. I need to give my all not just for Ezra and Neah, but for the sake of everyone. I can't afford to lose control of my Innocence now, not when I'm so close…_

She wonders cynically if she already has; that would explain the constant throbbing in her arm, the continuous pulse of energy that is clawing at her. If she hasn't lost control entirely, she is teetering on the brink of it.

But she still manages to rasp out an unconvincing "I'm fine," mostly because she is aware that he will not cease to ask her if she says otherwise. "It's just…a bit difficult to keep up with them, that's all. Especially because I can't actually see what's going on…but I have to help, for everyone's sake."

"It's hurting you," he says firmly, and Allen can see that he is exerting a large amount of self-control to avoid touching her. "Look at you—you can barely keep yourself upright. You can't keep doing this to yourself!"

When the white-haired girl turns to look at him, she immediately wishes that she hadn't: Tyki looks lost, utterly helpless, and it hurts her heart to see such a once-proud man be so impotent. She feels his pain because she understands; she knows how it feels to believe that there's nothing you can do, that your actions won't have any effect. She's been in the same scenario many times, and it's nearly always worse than actually fighting a losing battle, because at least you can say you did something—you tried, even if you failed.

"What am I supposed to do, then?"

She hears his dejected whisper, but she is well aware that there is nothing she can say to make it better. He's only a regular human now, when it comes right down to it—a regular human who is fighting against the much more powerful Noah that resides in his mind. Against such an overpowering force, there aren't very good odds for success, and it makes Allen quiver with rage when she wonders why Ezra had told him to let Joyd take over. Surely this must be a mistake; from her perspective, it makes no sense, but obviously Tyki had been desperate enough to do what her grandmother asked regardless of whether it made sense or not.

She can't forgive her for that—among other things, she notes with a hint of irony. But there's no time to be worrying about that now.

"You keep fighting," she forces out with a nearly indecipherable voice. "Don't let Joyd win."

Her arm throbs again, this time with more vigor, and in the next instant Allen hears herself cry out in pain.

_What are they doing out there?_

The next blow is even worse, the sensation so severe that there is nothing she can do to steady herself before she collapses onto her back.

"Allen!"

She feels a warm surface behind her, and arms wrap themselves around her torso as the white-haired girl fights to stay upright and fails miserably.

_Damn it…_

"I don't understand," she mutters as more sweat beads on her brow. _I don't understand…it doesn't hurt like I'm being attacked. It feels like…_

"Your arm…"

She snaps to attention at Tyki's awed whisper, and her own breath catches in her throat when she lays her eyes upon her left arm. It's no longer black, but entirely green. It looks as though it has been completely swathed in Innocence, more active than she has ever seen it. It shakes slightly, the motion out of her control, and it takes all of her remaining energy not to cringe at the tingling numbness that is overtaking the limb.

"What's happening to you?"

She doesn't answer him out loud. _Did I go too far? Are neither Ezra nor Neah capable of using my Innocence? Is it rejecting me again?_

But no, this looks and feels nothing like the last (and only) time her Innocence had defied her. That pain had been unimaginable; it still sends unpleasant shivers down her spine when she thinks about it. But this…

Gulping audibly, she finally whispers back, "I don't know."

* * *

She senses her granddaughter's anguish, as distant as it may be, and silently apologizes for her predicament. But there is no way to accomplish their goal without causing pain, and it appears that no one will be able to evade the consequences.

As she stares up at the Earl, Ezra hears her long-time companion's voice echoing inside her mind.

**Are you ready, Ezra? There's no going back after this. We either succeed here or we fail. We won't get another chance.**

Though she appreciates his warning (and is only too aware of how true it is), she feels her face break out into a soft smile.

_What do you take me for?_

"Do you really want to fight us again, Ezra-chan? Neah?" the Earl coos, his head cocked to the side in a fake innocent gesture.

 _Still so deceitful, even after all these years._ With her smile still in place, she braces herself. "Of course."


	43. A Destroyer of Time

_Last time_ …

"Do you really want to fight us again, Ezra-chan? Neah?" the Earl coos, his head cocked to the side in a fake innocent gesture.

 _Still so deceitful, even after all these years._ With her smile still in place, she braces herself. "Of course."

* * *

She's never been more certain of anything in her life. Every fiber of her being is telling her to go after this man and finally take him down from his throne of deceit and self-defacing lies; if not for his own peace of mind, then for hers. It would be, she's sure, a kindness to him as well; to spare him the damnation that surely awaits him otherwise. She has never enjoyed seeing people suffer, even if those people are the root of her own downfall. If she did, she would have abandoned her post a long time ago and let the others destroy themselves with their own hostility.

The sword in her right hand throbs, pulsing wildly as though it has its own sentience—which, in a way, it does. It seems almost like its own person, with its own thoughts and desires. Lacking all personal experience with the mysterious substance known as "Innocence," this is her first impression of it, but she can tell that it is aching to go after its enemies, desperate to achieve its long-awaited goal—and, as she glances over at the Earl once more, she realizes that their desires are not much different, and may even be one and the same.

She too wants to see the Earl fall, even if it causes her no enjoyment to bear witness to it.

"You—"

The white-haired woman turns just in time to see Joyd, his face contorted into an expression of familiar rage as he storms towards her. But then her eyes widen when she sees him stop in his tracks, his path suddenly blocked by the length of a katana whose blade, despite the fact that it is full of cracks, even now glows strongly with a terrifying blue light.

And attached to the other end of the intimidating sword is none other than the long-haired samurai from earlier. His back faces her as he shields the surprised woman from the other Noah's approach, and Joyd scowls in annoyance at the sharp blade of Innocence that is being held to his throat.

_He's…protecting me?_

"You again," Joyd scoffs, looking utterly displeased by the man's audacity to defy him. "I don't know why I expected anything different from you. Even after hearing everything she said, you still insist on protecting her? She isn't the same woman, you know. She isn't even human."

Ezra can't see his face, but she hears the deep tenor of his voice as the man proclaims, "I don't care. Don't touch her," he snarls for good measure, his voice a low timbre that digs deeply into her heart. "I'm your opponent, Noah."

As derogatory as the title of "Noah" sounds coming from this exorcist's mouth, Ezra is far more grateful than insulted. At any rate, this man doesn't want to kill her, and is willing to help her; he's even turned his back to her, trusting that she will not strike at him from behind.

 _He must care for my granddaughter quite a lot…how lucky she is, to have friends like these_.

Returning her attention to the Earl, who is still hovering above the ground, she takes a brave step forward.

"I apologize for my rudeness."

The Earl cackles, the sound utterly humorless and bordering on insane as he pulls out his own sword, driving home at once the eerie similarities between their weapons.

_But there's no other way for us to beat him than to stand on equal footing, is there?_

"Joyd, sit this fight out," the Earl says nonchalantly.

"What? But Lord Millennium, I—"

"You can kill those two exorcists if you wish—and the child, for good measure—but don't interfere. I want to face these two myself—and besides, at this point, you'd only get in the way."

Ezra bristles at his casual words, watching with wary eyes as he lowers himself towards the ground. His feet touch down, and with a wave of his wrist his sword strikes the ground in front of him, sending large projectiles of stone flying outward.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this day, you two," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. It tugs at her heart for barely an instant before Ezra manages to shake it off.

"The feeling is mutual."

Without warning, she catapults herself forward, her blade pointed directly at his heart.

_Clang!_

The blow is deflected effortlessly, and Ezra momentarily curses her lack of proper training as she twists in midair, following the top-heavy motion of her sword to avoid falling. She sticks one foot out behind her, skidding to a halt a few feet away. Immediately she rights her posture, brandishing the blade in front of her. It's a good thing she does, otherwise she surely would have ended up being cleaved in half by the Earl's strike; her weapon stops his mere inches from her throat, the reverberation of contact causing her limbs and vision to vibrate. She feels Neah's power build within her, a disconcerting heat that disturbs her with its intensity.

**Now!**

With a well-timed thrust, Ezra shoves the Earl's sword away from her neck, lifts one of her feet, and quickly brings it back down to the ground with all the force she can muster. Strength surges through her point of contact, and in response the ground beneath her starts to rupture.

 **Too hard. You have to get away before you fall through the floor** , she hears Neah mutter in an exasperated tongue, despite the fact that she can clearly see so for herself. She's frankly surprised that this room is still standing at all. Surely with all of the damage it should have collapsed by now.

Ezra totters to her feet, stumbling over the widening crack in the ground in a bid to get out of harm's way. The Earl has already gained some distance from the floor's gaping maw, and is now merely staring at her from afar with a peculiar stance. He seems relaxed, as if he is waiting patiently for her to steady her feet.

 _What is he doing? Is he waiting for me to be ready before we resume the fight? Why would he_ …?

But then she remembers who he is, and with pained acceptance she reasons that some habits are difficult to get rid of.

Ezra distracts herself with a brief stab of pain in her wrist, and cries out softly as she falls to one of her knees.

"Allen!"

With a small smile, she turns to the source of the cry, sending the samurai a reassuring nod as he attempts to hold off Joyd.

"I'm fine," she says. "I'm fine."

When she glances downward, she sees the thin cut her sword had given her amidst her fumbling. It stings, far more than it reasonably should for such a tiny cut, but it doesn't bleed; the skin doesn't even break.

Instead, it glows green, and as it fades so does the penetrating burn that accompanies it. She can feel the pain deep in her core, and her insides writhe in discomfort.

Through her bubble of confusion, Ezra hears the Earl laugh.

"You aren't surprised, are you?" he laughs. "Don't tell me that you don't even know what that sword is capable of. I had my doubts when I first saw you had it, but now I know for certain. Or did Neah not tell you?"

 _Neah?_ Suddenly she gasps as a wave of memories assaults her senses; the Earl stands before her, looking similar but also much different—the Earl from thirty-five years ago—as he wields his sword at her for an instant before tossing it aside.

 _Why_ …? _Ah, yes, I see. This is how you died, isn't it, Neah? He didn't use his sword on you, of course…_

Back in the present, she feels a cold sweat break out on her forehead, hears the Earl's voice around her as she stares wide-eyed at the weapon in her grasp.

"I do know," she manages to force out, "but it's easy to forget that our own weapons can hurt us, too." _The Sword of Exorcism—the Earl's deadliest weapon against us, and the one that can end the entire Clan of Noah._

"That sword is not your weapon," the Earl insists, his tone suddenly dark. "It belongs to the Earl of Millennium, not to two Noah who are barely capable of wielding it."

Against her better judgment, Ezra smiles at him. Without breaking eye contact, she raises her injured wrist, displaying the faint green line for him to see. Even the exorcists and Joyd momentarily halt their battle to watch her.

"But it's not just you who can wield it, is it?" _The sword that, with one well placed strike, can exorcise a Noah from their host_. "This mark is proof that Neah and I can—proof that regardless of what you may think, you are no longer fit to be the Earl of Millennium. And perhaps there shouldn't be one at all."

He moves so fast that she can barely see him, and is nearly caught off guard by his unprecedented speed. Ezra ducks beneath the sword's swipe just in time to avoid being beheaded, and counters with a blow of her own; the Earl artfully dodges it, bringing his own blade down to collide with hers.

_Clang._

_Clang._

_Clang_.

Again and again they take aim at each other, until the two finally stand face to face, both of their swords shaking with the strain of pushing against the other.

With their faces barely an inch apart, the Earl growls at her.

"How are you two able to do this?" he spits. "You're not the Earl! _I am_!"

_This madness—I haven't seen the Earl lose control like this before. But then again, the Millennium Earl isn't all he is. He was human once, too, more than any of us._

Ezra clenches her teeth, steels herself against the man's nearly overwhelming strength, and tries to ignore the burning pain in her muscles.

**Either push back or let me take over, Ezra. Why do you insist on fighting against him yourself?**

_Because…I want to spare you the pain of doing so._

With a strangled grunt, the white-haired woman finally does as she's told; she shoves the Earl away, backing up a few paces to put some distance between them. Then, in the sparse instant before he has a chance to storm her, she swings the heavy sword upwards with all her strength. It's a sloppy, perhaps even foolish attempt, but it's surely better than giving into her body's exhaustion.

_I'm sorry, Neah._

She closes her eyes briefly when she feels her blow make contact, an appallingly loud sound accompanying it, and gasps as her back hits the wall behind her.

_Crack!_

All goes quiet, a heavy silence weighing upon her even with the room's other occupants still present. When next she opens her eyes, she sees her opponent standing in much the same state of shock, his body utterly still as he processes what has just happened. Ezra watches from her own prone position, aghast as the mask she had cleaved in two falls apart, the now separate pieces hitting the ground with an audible smack. A thin line of blood trails between his exposed eyes, wide with surprise at his close brush with danger.

And, against all logic, the woman can't help but to release a relieved sigh.

"Lord Millennium!"

She turns just in time to see Joyd staring at the Earl with wide eyes from where he sits perched on a banister, just out of reach of the exorcist's sword.

She ignores him.

"I knew it was you," she whispers under her breath, the sound lost to the air as she scrutinizes the man's unnatural appearance. Though time has certainly taken its toll, as have the characteristic Noah features, there's no mistaking the face beneath that dark stubble and slicked-back hair.

And she's painfully aware that, no matter what she is feeling, Neah must be feeling a hundred—no, a thousand—times worse; it's only one of the reasons why she had wanted to be the one to confront the Earl, rather than him. Family members should never be obliged to harm each other, after all, even if it is for the good of humanity.

 _What a hypocrite I am_.

"You may be the Earl," she says, brandishing her sword once more as she steadies her shaking feet, "but we are the ones who were created to oppose you. Your time is over. The Earl's reign has come to an end…Mana."

At the sound of the familiar name—one she hasn't spoken in years—a barrage of memories flows through her. Some are happy, some anxious and full of sorrow, but more than anything else they are nostalgic. If only the time before her death, before Neah's brother was left alone to wither in the depths of the Earl's madness, could have lasted forever…

**How…how did you know it was him? How long have you known?**

Even in the face of the Earl's stare, she smiles sadly. _Since I first saw him. How could I not know? Even considering how much he's changed, I can still feel that it's him. He still feels like Mana._

"What are you talking about?" the Earl suddenly snaps, eyes lit up with defiant anger. "What did you call me?"

With a hardened jaw, the young woman stares back at him, steeling her gaze and holding her blade in a defensive posture.

"I called you by your name—Mana Walker," she says loudly. "Because that's who you are."

* * *

_Several months prior_ …

He shouldn't be doing this. It's a risk, but he has to take it—he has to know, even if his apprentice will hate him for it. She already hates him as it is, so what's the harm in stoking that anger a little bit more? It's not as though she has much more time to be angry regardless; soon, her own emotions will be replaced by the Fourteenth's, and everything will come full circle.

It may be cold of him to think that way about her, but he has always known it would come to this. There's no other way to end this godforsaken war, and the guilt he feels for using her as he has thus far is tempered by the belief that it's all for the best.

Even so, Cross Marian hesitates at the bars of the cell, spying his sleeping apprentice curled up on the piss-poor excuse for a bed that Leverrier has given her.

_And while she's pregnant, too. That man has no clue how to treat a lady, does he?_

He sighs once but still tries to remain inconspicuous and unseen by the guards, holding his hand over his mouth as he mutters an incantation under his breath and uses the other to draw a series of symbols in the air. He waits a moment before enacting a second one, then waits again.

Only moments later the figure on the bed begins to stir, and Cross watches with bated breath as she pushes herself into a sitting position. He relaxes then, a jolt running through him when the scant light of the hallway lanterns illuminates her face—not her usual pale color, but a gray hue accentuated by golden eyes.

_Neah._

"We can talk," the red-haired man says. "I cast a silencing charm, so those hare-brained guards won't hear us."

It's a bit eerie seeing Allen stare at him with such a vacant, detached look in her eyes; he writes it off as a lack of lucidity brought about by the process of awakening.

"…Why am I awake?" he finally says.

"A spell I've been working on. I've subdued her consciousness temporarily, which in theory should allow yours to take over. When she wakes up, she should be none the wiser. As if it were all a dream."

Finally, it appears as though the Noah realizes whom he's talking to. "…Cross Marian," he breathes, his voice still tinged with drowsiness. "You've got the same cunning air as always. It's been a while since we've talked, hasn't it?"

"Yes, and unfortunately the last words you said to me weren't exactly clear. What happened?"

As if releasing a great burden, Neah sighs, averting his eyes from the General's as he conjures up a proper response.

"I wanted to tell you," he says quietly, his fists clenching in his lap, "but there was no time. It's Mana."

"Mana? What about him? I…" He pauses and swallows his hesitation. "He died, you know. He had Ezra's granddaughter with him, just as you said. How did you know about that, anyway?"

Neah shakes his head, an ironic smile playing at the edges of his lips. "I figured he would go looking for her. Even if he didn't consciously realize it, my brother would have gone looking for the girl with Noah blood. You must be mistaken, Cross. Even if it appeared that Mana died, his body must have stayed alive somehow. That's part of the reason I came to find you that day…the reason I told you to watch out for Mana and the child that would come before him, is because I found out what was happening when it was already too late for me to do anything about it."

Cross's ears perk up, his usually slanted eye widening as the Noah, at long last, tells him the whole truth.

"Mana was the Earl's next vessel, Cross. He was—in a manner of speaking—one of us. I realized it that day—his gradual shift in behavior, his sudden lapses in personality…it suddenly made sense. And you don't know this, but the Earl died the same day as I did. We killed each other. And because of that…I have no doubt that the Earl who exists right now is Mana."

* * *

"Mana Walker?" the Earl repeats, his face contorting with confusion. "What are you talking about, Ezra-chan? I have no idea who that person is—it's a nice attempt to confuse me, though, I'll give you that."

_He's not lying. Being the Earl for so long must have warped his mind—does he even remember that the Fourteenth is his brother?_

"Yes, you do," the woman insists, taking a brave step forward. "You must recall something of your human life, don't you? You must remember Neah and I being more than your enemies…"

"Be quiet, woman!"

Ezra tilts her gaze sideways, sees Joyd as he jumps down to their level, with the male exorcist not far behind him. The Chinese girl stays off to the side of the room, her back against the wall most likely for fear of having the baby too close to the Maker of Akuma.

Joyd's fists are clenched with rage, though she can see that he is expending a great deal of effort to avoid attacking her. Though she knows it shouldn't, seeing this behavior from the both of them hurts her; it very nearly breaks her heart.

"What are you trying to do?" Joyd continues, his eyes narrowed at her. "What game are you playing, Ezra?"

"No game," she replies, shaking her head. "I'm only trying to help him—I want to help those I care about, not harm them. I didn't want to harm you, either. I didn't want any of this to happen."

Can he sense her honesty? If so, he actively tries to ignore it; several years of pent-up anger won't vanish in a day, and she doesn't expect them to. Regardless of the circumstances that have led her to this moment, she understands very well where Joyd is coming from, that his feelings are not entirely his fault, if at all.

"I'm truly sorry for everything I've put you through—the both of you," she tells them. "Truly."

Even the Earl looks surprised by her admission, though the brief peace doesn't last long; it's then that she sees the samurai land on the ground behind Joyd, his katana raised for a strike—

"Stop."

The exorcist's brief hesitation provides just enough time for Joyd to slip away, and he whips back around to face the both of them with renewed wrath. His eyes flit from her to his attacker, full of clouded confusion and obvious internal conflict.

"Don't kill him," Ezra tells the exorcist, her voice firm. He has no reason to trust her or do as she says, especially given her position, but there isn't much else she can do besides ask.

And just as she had expected, he snarls back at her, "Like hell I won't!"

With that, he resumes his pursuit.

"Wait!"

She makes to go after him, to put an end to their fight regardless of the consequences and in spite of Neah's vocal protests, but that goes by the wayside as soon as a dark shadow looms over her.

The Earl—Mana—steps into her path, cutting off her view of the two men as they proceed to resume their fight in the next room over.

"Leave them be, Ezra," he says in a low voice, the lack of an honorific attached to her name making her skin grow cold. She's never seen him this serious before, not even on that day. "This is between us, is it not?"

_Damn._

The Earl raises his hand, his sword poised to come down on her; with no time to escape, she raises her own in defense, gritting her teeth against the blow that is sure to come. She only hopes that she will be able to withstand another without collapsing.

But it doesn't come. His hand freezes in the air, pausing suddenly as though he has just come to a realization.

Shocked, the woman blinks up at her opponent, and one glance at his confused pallor and strained expression tells her that he is just as bewildered as she is. His arm is shaking, and though he is trying to move it from its prone position it seems that he is physically unable to. A bead of sweat makes its way down his forehead.

"Well, it looks like we've arrived just in time. Good job, Marie; I'm not sure what I would have done if you weren't here."

Somewhere in the back of her consciousness, a light goes off. She knows that voice, and the name that it uttered—or her granddaughter does, at any rate.

And then, upon closer inspection of Mana's paralyzed limbs, she sees the subtly shiny strands wound around the man's arm like so many spiders' webs, and for a moment all she can do is stare at them in subdued awe.

_Is this Innocence, as well?_

Her gaze whips to the side, and her eyes widen as she sees an older gentlemen standing by, with a larger brown-skinned man not far behind him. The latter, she notices, has his hands held out at odd angles, and if she strains her ears Ezra can even make out the faint sound of organ music emanating from his controlled aura.

_Who are these people? They're exorcists as well; they must be._

"I'd move if I were you, young lady," the older one says. "Marie's strings may be strong, but they won't last long against the Earl himself."

Wordlessly (and more than a bit stunned) she does as he says, rushing over to stand beside this new stranger as she regains her breath.

"Thank you," she says quickly, "but who are you?"

He looks at her sadly, recognition floating within his deep eyes. "A friend," he tells her simply. "Komui knew we were coming, but I'm appalled that this is our welcome home present. We nearly lost our heads in the main hallway, thanks to the other Noah." He sends her a crooked grin, his crow's feet nearly hiding his eyes. "I get the feeling that you aren't like the rest of them, though. Now, you go stop those two," he tells her, gesturing to the general location where Joyd and the male exorcist had disappeared. "We'll hold him off for a while."

Though Ezra privately doubts the confidence in his statement, this is no time for her to be hesitating. She tears off after the two men, the sword clenched tightly in her fist.

" _Ezra!"_

She ignores Mana's rage-filled cry from behind her, as well as Neah's continuous protests.

**What are you doing, you idiot? Turn back around! What's gotten into you?**

_I made a promise, Neah_ , she reminds him. _I have to stop that exorcist from fighting Joyd, otherwise we'll be facing off against both the Earl and him. Either that, or Joyd's vessel will die—not that there's much chance of that. That man may be strong, but_ …

And when she finds them, she sees that she is more or less correct. Though the male exorcist is putting up a valiant effort, his fatigue and prior injury are obvious, and Joyd is clearly exploiting that fact. Every swipe of the man's katana is dodged, but no return blows are dealt; it's a game of cat and mouse, but in this case Ezra isn't sure which is which. It looks to her as though Joyd is merely toying with him, running him ragged so as to pass the time and amuse himself before killing him.

It's disgusting. It almost makes her physically ill to see people she once saw as friends turn into monsters she hardly recognizes, but she supposes she is no different in their eyes. And, in spite of the fact that her long-time enemy is in the next room over—no matter who he used to be—she knows that she has to stop what's happening right here. She has to prevent another innocent person (or two) from getting hurt.

She made a promise, after all.

Ezra searches deep within the recesses of her granddaughter's mind, an odd experience, but a necessary one; she tries to find a clue, a name to put to the exorcist's face…

"Kanda!"

If he's at all surprised by the fact that she calls his name—at least she thinks that's his name, if her intuition is accurate—he doesn't outwardly show it.

But, much to her dismay, Joyd does.

The moment he hears her voice, he pounces away from the Japanese man and lands deftly on the ledge that protrudes from the wall above him. He straightens out, tall and oddly regal, staring down at them as though he fancies himself superior. (She's well aware that he does.)

"You came back again," he ponders, a snarky grin on his face as he pointedly ignores Kanda's outraged yell. "Odd. I know that the Earl is still alive, otherwise I would have felt something. Isn't coming here a bit irresponsible of you, then? I never pegged you for a coward, Ezra, but I suppose even I could be wrong sometimes. It wouldn't be the first time you've fooled others into thinking you're an angel. Tell me—have you left the Earl behind so that your exorcist friends can do the dirty work?"

Her hand tightens around her weapon, but she stays tellingly silent, refusing to give in to Joyd's bait. She knows he's only trying to make Neah angry; the man has always had an uncommonly short fuse, but that's to be expected. Yes, her being in control had definitely been for the best; she possesses patience that many others could never hope to achieve.

Kanda, on the other hand, does not.

"Get down here, you damn Noah," he snarls, his gray eyes alight with flames even as blood drips silently from the corner of his mouth.

"Stop it," Ezra says brusquely, stress eating away at her veil of calm. "You're hurt too badly to keep fighting, Kanda—"

" _Don't call me that!"_

She tenses at the sheer wrath dripping from his voice, at the abhorrently hateful eyes that are now trained on her. Shocked by his sudden outburst, for a moment all she can do is stare.

"You don't get to call me by my name," he says, quietly this time. "So don't."

Ah, now she understands. She's less than human in his eyes, not close enough to call him by his name; all she is to him is an imposter wearing his friend's skin. Well, he isn't entirely wrong.

"Oh?" Joyd looks utterly amused by Kanda's reaction, but Ezra forces herself to meet his gaze head-on.

"Don't fight him," she says. "I'm right here. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"The Earl told me not to interfere," he mutters, "but you may have a point, my dear. With that sword you have, it might be more amusing to deal with you for a while. You seem to have regained some of your nerve. Besides, the Earl might thank me if I weaken you before passing you off to him."

She swallows the lump in her throat, shifts her feet, and repositions her heavy blade just as Joyd decides to spring towards her.

" _No!"_

Ignoring the exorcist's protests, Ezra launches herself backwards to gain some distance; she backs up just in time for Joyd come crashing down on the place where she had been standing seconds prior. His dark matter flashes blindingly as he stands up to his full height, held in his palm like so many blades of light. It illuminates his twisted expression, his wide bloodshot-crazed eyes as his mouth stretches into a grotesquely toothy grin that would surely give normal humans nightmares.

"Come on, Ezra," he says cheekily. "I'm waiting for you, my dear."

"Kanda, stop it! You have to move!"

Her peripheral vision catches a glimpse of the female exorcist, with her granddaughter's child still wrapped in the crook of her arm, as she tries to pull a glaring Kanda away from the battle. He resists her cajoling, but stands stiff and unreadable only a few feet away from them.

_Please, young lady—talk some sense into him, if you can._

Returning her attention to Joyd, Ezra takes a deep breath before charging at him; her sword is held in front of her in a defense that feels far more meager than it should given her advantage, but still, the lack of alarm in his eyes bothers her.

Her first hit acts like a battering ram, knocking him backwards and leaving trailed indents of broken stone in the floor. Even as he digs his heels into the ground, the crazed smile never leaves his face—and neither do his eyes leave hers.

"Nice try."

With her sword still balanced precariously in the air, she aims one of her legs for his face; he artfully dodges the kick, and counters with a leap into the air, managing to escape the second swipe of her sword by the skin of his teeth (not that it would physically harm him anyway, but she isn't sure whether or not he's aware of that fact). He lands back on the ledge from before, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I like it, but isn't it a bit hard to throw that thing around?" he teases her, inclining his head towards the oversized weapon in her increasingly sweaty palm. "Or are your injuries from before still not fully healed yet?"

**Like we'd tell him that.**

It's hard not to cringe; the latter half of his statement is definitely true, but she won't bother to dignify it with a response. She's fairly certain he can tell what she's thinking regardless. "I thought you didn't want to talk to me. Do you enjoy conversing with people you hate?"

She sees it: the faintest trace of malcontent swimming in his eyes right before he casts it aside with a snickering mask. "Of course not." He pushes himself off of the ledge, a demon-like glimmer taking hold as he soars above her head.

"But I've always made an exception for you, dear."

He's fast, just like in her last memory of him, almost too fast for her to see; Ezra curses under her breath as she hears him land deftly behind her. Her heart beats slowly in time with her surroundings as she turns on her heels to meet him, fully expecting to take another blow to the chest or worse—can she stop herself from killing him this time, purely on instinct?

Will she fail someone else?

_Clang._

The sound of metal reverberates throughout the room, and she does a double take at her own weapon, bare and unmoving in her palm.

 _Who_ …

She is nothing short of shocked when she turns around, and instead of seeing Joyd's hand buried in her ribcage, she catches a glimpse of a dark coat—a man's back.

"…Kanda?"

She hears the female exorcist shout his name from the sidelines, but the noise is at the periphery of her awareness. She's too busy being shocked by the exorcist's sudden appearance, at the sight of him actively trying to shield her with his body in spite of her superior physical strength. He is using his own sword, the katana that has already taken so much damage, to hold off the dark matter of a Noah who would surely crush him otherwise with barely a thought.

Joyd, apparently just as flabbergasted as she is, withdraws his hand and takes a few steps back; in response, the exorcist widens his stance, holding his blade strong as though preparing to fight.

"Kanda?" she repeats, more urgently this time. "What are you doing?"

"Stay behind me," he rasps, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument.

Even so, she'll be damned if she lets him take all of the pressure onto himself when he can barely hold his own body upright. Besides, wasn't he the one yelling at her only moments ago? He couldn't have changed his mind so quickly, could he?

"Nonsense," she argues. "You don't have to protect a Noah—"

"It's not you. It's the Moyashi."

… _Ah. How daft could I be not to realize it?_ "You're in love with her," she muses under her breath, catching the barest twitch of his tense shoulders. _How unfortunate_.

"How touching," Joyd spits, "but I'm afraid your pleasantries must be cut short." He pulls back, this time aiming his dark matter for the exorcist, but this time Kanda is ready for it; he matches his katana to the speed of Joyd's attack, somehow miraculously able to keep up with his body in such poor shape. Even she can feel the faint throbbing in her legs, her chest, her back, only a toned-down version of the pain he undoubtedly feels.

She wants to go after them. She has to put a stop to this; she has to face Joyd herself, otherwise both of them could end up dying. But would interfering be safe? She's afraid of accidentally hitting Kanda in the process. They're fighting too close, and she can't see an opening.

_I have to separate them, but how?_

Without much thought, she acts on instinct.

A high-pitched whistle makes its way out of her throat, drawing the males' attention for a fraction of a second.

And then she throws her sword.

It hurtles towards them with frightening speed, and both Joyd's and Kanda's eyes widen before they move quickly out of the way. The sword sticks into the wall between them, leaving dangerously large cracks in the stone.

Once again, time seems to slow down; the second she sees Kanda resume movement, she is already pealing across the room. The blade of his katana is aimed at Joyd's chest, the latter releasing a breathless curse as he makes a useless attempt to dodge it…

As it turns out, he doesn't have to.

Her eyes see a blur of gray and black and gold, twisted into a warped barrage of sensation as she throws herself at unparalleled speed in front of Joyd. And when she does, her vision suddenly becomes clear, acute, sharpened around the edges so that she has to see even what she doesn't want to—that is, Joyd's dumbfounded expression. She gets a sense of déjà vu from looking at it, and it doesn't take very long for her to realize why.

This has happened before.

Agony splits open across her back, burning like fire in her flesh as the Innocence digs into her body. The Noah's face goes from outright shocked to an almost perfect replica of his expression from thirty-five years ago, and it sends chills (among other things) down her spine just to witness the uncanny resemblance.

_Oh…I've done it again, haven't I?_

She hears it, her own heartbeat pulsing in slow motion within her ears, can feel her blood pumping vigorously in response to what she's sure is a gaping wound—though her shell-shocked body doesn't leave much room for speculation—but she's taken so much damage already that what's a little more, right?

She's never been good at lying to herself.

"Moyashi…"

The nickname is uttered beneath held breath, and horrified denial is layered underneath that.

"Allen-chan!"

All she can do is glance sideways, barely able to make out the silhouette of the young lady who had tried to save her earlier. _A valiant one._

She blinks once, then twice, wonders if her eyes are playing tricks on her, because she could swear she sees the faintest ethereal glow of green light peeking out from beneath the child's blanket…

But it couldn't be, she reasons. Her eyes must be wrong.

_Or could it be…_

She never gets to finish that thought.

* * *

Tiedoll straightens his back, stretching out the tense muscles with a sigh. His Embracing Garden mostly obscures everything around him, but even with it activated he still feels uneasy.

For one thing, the Earl is not attacking them. Apart from breaking free of Marie's strings, he hasn't taken any offensive moves, and it's starting to bother the General.

Meanwhile, his apprentice is struggling just to keep his strings activated, having built an intricate web of Innocence that spans across the entire exit of the room. That's one blessing that Tiedoll can count, the fact that all of his pupils are extraordinarily talented. Even if they are unable to fight the Earl one-on-one, they can at least defend themselves temporarily.

This is the best they can do, but for all of their effort it is painfully obvious that the Millennium Earl is unconcerned with the level of danger they pose.

_What is he doing? Is he contemplating something? If so, what?_

"What's going on, Master?" Marie whispers. "He isn't even trying to break my strings…"

He only wishes he had an acceptable answer.

"A fair question."

Both men tense at the Earl's response, and Tiedoll wonders just what exactly his game is. If he's not trying to kill them, then what does he want?

And, though he dislikes the thought of it, he also considers another possibility: that, rather than actually taking an interest in the two of them, the Earl simply doesn't consider them a priority.

"Are you going to answer it, then?" the General asks.

"It's the strangest thing," the Earl finally muses. "As it turns out…another Noah has just been born."


	44. A Tale of Old

Green.

An ethereal, glowing color, one that dances on the edge of her vision. It's everywhere she looks; her periphery is clouded by it. She knows where it's coming from, though she is hesitant to believe it. _From the Innocence in that child's forehead_.

But what does it do?

What does it mean?

_Have we been wrong this whole time?_

Try as she might, she can't shake the feeling that plagues her. The green glow mystifies her, almost taunts her with the inability to comprehend it, but it's so subtle that she doubts anyone else besides her and the female exorcist have noticed it on a visual level. The shock of it must be the only thing keeping her conscious, but even that won't last much longer.

Right now she's still standing, balanced precariously on her feet, and afraid that she will collapse at any second. But she doesn't, even after what feels to her like several minutes, and she wonders if time has somehow frozen. If her granddaughter's memory serves, there is another exorcist who could do something like that…

"Ezra…"

A soft voice speaks her name, and she almost misses it among her tumultuous thoughts and the pain of her wound. But she manages to catch it, and as soon as she does she almost wishes she hadn't; it hurts her to hear it, because it's the same exact tone of voice he had used before, the first time she had died. It's surreal.

Too surreal.

She falls, the weight of gravity suddenly feeling like too much for her body to bear, and to her surprise she lands not on cold, hard ground, but in the warm net that had always managed to ensnare her up until now. She notes with ironic relief that the net doesn't try to hurt her, even if he had looked it at first glance and tried to do so several times.

Her eyes slide closed against her will, the world around her muted and empty but for the vibrating presence of the child only a few feet away. She can still feel the newborn shifting, her Innocence pulsing as though it's trying to break free from whatever binds it…

She can still hear voices.

"What have you done?" the net whispers in her ear, and she knows on instinct that he is not talking to her, not that she could respond anyway. "Why did you…?"

_Now this is unexpected. Is he feeling remorse now that I'm dying?_

"I didn't…" the exorcist stutters. "I…Moyashi…" The man's voice sounds pained, more pained than she can ever remember him sounding, and she knows with a heavy heart that it's because of her selfishness in trying to save the both of them. "She took the blow for _you. Why_?"

Why, indeed? Because she was stubborn, and wanted to fulfill her promise while saving as many others as she could? What a childish notion. This whole time she had been under the impression that she lost such immature tendencies years ago. But what can she do now that it's already too late? The mistake has been made, and there's no undoing it, but what else can be done?

_I can still fight._

Not in the traditional sense, obviously; she's well aware that a katana made of Innocence did more than a little damage to her body, but she can still do something to help, right? She may have made a horrible mistake just now (another thing to add to the list), but this fight is far from being over.

If nothing else, she can still let her granddaughter fight. She knows that's what she wants, even if Ezra doubts that she is fully equipped to handle the truth.

Then again, who is she to judge?

And while she's at it…she can save Joyd as well.

Clarity rushes back to her suddenly, and the young woman gasps as she inhales the familiar scent of the man holding her. She's leaning against him, her face buried oddly in his shirt, his arms barely holding her upright as his chest does most of the work. He must feel her stir; his muscles tense, and she practically feels his eyes on her as she struggles to sit up of her own accord.

"Ezra?"

_Can I do this? Can I really go through with this? Can I find it within myself to betray you one more time?_

Her arms shake as she rests them on his shoulders, propping herself up so she can get a good look at him.

_One more time._

Behind him, still roughly embedded in the wall, is her Sword of Exorcism. She stares at it, alternating her gaze between the weapon and his face, pain stabbing her chest as she sees the look in his eyes.

He looks…relieved.

So had it all been fake, then? Had his homicidal hatred for her been a mere lie? No, not a lie—a front, or perhaps even a delusion so strong that he had genuinely believed in it. A defense mechanism to cover up deeper, traitorous feelings that he believed should be buried and forgotten after her betrayal.

But it hadn't worked.

_He still cares for me._

This realization provides her with the final compulsion she needs to make her decision. None of them—none of the Noah—will ever live peacefully, not with the baggage that plagues their past.

It's better this way.

"I'm sorry."

She closes her eyes, outstretches her hand, and summons her sword. Before he can say a thing in response, the oversized blade plunges through both of their bodies, skewering the Noah within them both.

The last thing she sees are Joyd's golden eyes.

* * *

It happens so fast that he can't do anything to stop it. As a matter of fact, Tiedoll doesn't even notice until it's too late. In the blink of an eye, the Millennium Earl starts to fight back against the strings of Innocence that keep him trapped with them, and in an instant he is already gone, his power having overwhelmed and broken though Marie's strings as though they were nothing but tissue paper. He had barely paid them any mind, driving home once again just how feeble and helpless the exorcists were in his mind.

It hadn't even taken him ten seconds to break out of their grasp.

"Master!"

He doesn't respond to his apprentice's outraged cry; under his command, his garden vanishes, and with a grunt of acknowledgment to the younger man Tiedoll begins making his way towards the exit the Earl had used. He's going after Allen and the others, and it wouldn't be fair of them to leave them alone to fend for themselves.

It's about time they get in on the action as well, even if it kills them.

"General Tiedoll!"

He stops in his tracks at the familiar voice, and turns around to see none other than Bookman standing behind him, looking haggard and worn but no worse for wear than he himself must appear.

"Bookman?" He remembers seeing him fight with the others earlier—he's still very spry for a man of his age—so he wonders for a moment why he's here as opposed to in the main hall. "What's going on?"

"The others are holding up the other Noah for now, but it won't last long. I came to warn you."

"About what?"

The old man pauses, scratches his chin once. "It's an odd feeling, but I felt something…sinister. Well, not entirely, but it's definitely dangerous. And the Noah we were fighting against…all of a sudden, they all started crying. It was the strangest thing."

"Crying?" That's a new one. He's never heard of Noah crying before, much less all of them doing so at the same time. Then again, what was it the Earl had said only moments ago? That a new Noah had been born? He had tried not to pay it much mind, but…

Deep in his gut, Tiedoll harbors a bad feeling about this.

But without saying anything more, he, Marie, and Bookman follow the Earl into the other room.

* * *

He staggers into the room, feet moving of their own accord as he blindly follows the source of his pain. What he knows to be tears flow freely from his eyes, but no matter what he does he cannot get them to stop. He can't remember the last time he had cried, or even if he ever has. Right now it's all a blur, but even so, he can't remember being sad, and he certainly isn't sad at the moment, so why is this happening? Why…?

He receives the answer only seconds after stepping inside. The exorcists are there as he had expected, both looking relatively well worn from their continuous battles, and with a jolt the Earl's eyes lock onto the sight of the shuffling infant in the young girl's arms. He narrows his eyes at her, watching in surprise as a faint green glow emanates from her, the glow of what can only be Innocence.

Then it hits him.

_But…how can that be? It must be her I felt the Noah presence coming from, but I can't believe it. A person can't be born a Noah, can they?_

With his body still in shock, his eyes slide over to the huddled forms that he had pointedly avoided glancing at before.

At once, he understands the source of his tears.

"N-Neah…Ezra…"

He saunters towards their unmoving bodies, wrapped around each other where they sit on the ground, impaled by the large sword the woman had been wielding only minutes ago. He is mindless of the footsteps behind him, and of the heated glare coming from his left.

"Stop!"

He doesn't listen. Why should he? It's not as though the man can do anything to him, as feeble and human as he is. He inches closer to the bodies, unsure what he plans to do as he reaches out a hand towards the white-haired woman's head.

Only two inches away from skimming her hair, he stops, paranoia washing over him as something far more sinister makes itself known. He tilts his head slowly to the side, wary of a thing that he knows nothing about but fears all the same, and stares at the infant in the exorcist's arms.

And it stares back at him.

Wide, silver eyes stare blankly but penetrate deeply, making him uneasy. The glowing green cross on its forehead catches him off guard, but it is the unmistakably gray skin that compels him to stay utterly still.

 _Don't move_ , the young thing seems to say. _If you touch my mother, you'll regret it._

Now, he isn't foolish enough to think that this tiny thing is conscious enough to form that kind of complex thought, but it is protective of its mother all the same. It must know, on an innate biological level, that he is the danger presented to its protector.

And he doesn't know how it will respond if he attempts to harm her.

So, although the action isn't entirely logical, the Earl doesn't move.

* * *

If Allen were to ever regret the series of decisions she's made, now would be the time.

The last tangible memory she has is of that moonlit place, of being trapped there with none other than Tyki Mikk. Now, her vision has become pure white, most likely a symptom of her shot nerves. Fire licks across her skin, and though she knows it's not real it sure as hell feels like it is; it sets her nerves ablaze with agony as she desperately tries to make sense of a situation that doesn't seem as though it has any to offer.

It's bad enough that she already has no idea what's going on, but the sudden, all-encompassing pain makes it that much worse. Whatever is happening to her body right now is unimaginable, and she doesn't really care to try to figure it out.

Then, with the drop of a hat, it vanishes, and she is thrown back to her senses with no warning, back to the whimsical forest she had first arrived in (with no explanation, no less). The moon is still shining down on her, its glow even stronger now that it is entirely full, illuminating the sea of trees.

For a moment she sits there, sweat dripping off her forehead, hair sticking disgustingly close to her overheated skin as she struggles to move her numbed body.

"Allen!"

She nearly cries out in surprise when a hand grabs her wrist and spins her around; her tense muscles relax when she recognizes that it's only Tyki, a thought that nearly makes her laugh out loud in its irony.

The white-haired girl takes a moment to glance around: they are still sitting in the same place as before, knelt beneath the base of a large tree. "What…" She wants to ask what happened, but she isn't confident that he would be able to tell her the answer. He's just as clueless as she is.

"You're alright," he gasps, relief palpable in his voice as his eyes scan her body for injuries. _Injuries that he won't find_ , she adds on. If there is one thing she knows about this place, it is that it is all fantasy, a reflection of one's mind rather than one's reality. What happens here mirrors the real world, yes, but anyone else who isn't familiar with that fact would be lost, and anyone who denies his or her reality would most likely be trapped.

That's what her gut is telling her.

"You must have felt that horrid pain too," Tyki continues. "Right? It was like flames were eating away at my insides…"

Allen's eyes grow wide. _So he did feel it? Why?_ Before she can respond to his statement, someone else does so in her place.

"Yes, it was. Quite unpleasant, if I do say so myself."

Both Allen and Tyki freeze, and their heads snap to the side faster than an alert owl's.

When the young woman sees the new arrivals, her breath gets stuck in her throat, but she still manages to force out a breathless mumble. "E-Ezra? Neah? And…"

For a good few seconds Allen finds herself all but speechless. She had never thought or even considered the possibility that she would see these two in the flesh—for lack of a more appropriate term—and doing so is more surreal than she could have ever imagined. They look exactly as they had in her memories, and the knowledge that the woman standing before her is a mere relative is tempered by the inclination to believe she is looking at a mirror—a brown-haired, olive-skinned mirror. It's truly frightening how much they look alike.

Ezra smiles at her, finally breaking the spell her appearance had wrought over the white-haired girl. "Hello, Allen. I'm sorry I couldn't introduce myself properly before. It might not sound like much of an excuse, but I was in a bit of a hurry."

As though compelled by her grandmother's voice, Allen takes a tentative step forward, but then stops as though wary of getting too close. She takes a deep breath. "Why are you here? What happened? Am I…?" She doesn't want to finish that sentence, deathly afraid of what the response will be.

"You aren't dead," Neah speaks up, his hands clenched tightly in the pockets of his trench coat, "though my brother is soon to make sure of it."

 _His brother? Mana?_ "You mean Mana? What about him? How is he involved?" _I don't understand…_

Seeing her obvious confusion, Ezra takes her own step towards her, and, much to Allen's surprise, she doesn't back away. "I'm sorry, Allen," the older woman says, "but we haven't been completely honest with you—though I do apologize for Neah's lack of tact."

Allen can't even begin to guess at what's going on, but she knows from the sinking pit in her stomach that it's not anything good. "Tell me."

With Ezra's blatant hesitance, Neah decides to be the one to talk—and almost immediately, Allen regrets wanting to know.

"Mana is the Earl."

Her first instinct, of course, is to deny such a ridiculous notion. She had seen her foster father get hit by that carriage, she had bared witness to and been the cause of his transformation into an Akuma. The Earl had even been the one to tempt her, to watch as she killed the twisted being she had helped create with his fallen soul.

It just isn't possible.

Allen shakes her head, ignoring Ezra's sad expression. "That can't be. I saw the Earl on the day Mana was buried. I saw him get hit by that carriage! _I'm_ the one who brought his soul back to be made into an Akuma! What are you saying?"

"A puppet," Neah says calmly, gaze pensive as he stares at the ground; but beneath it all, she can still catch a glimpse of his internal struggle.

He doesn't want to believe what he's saying, either.

"…What?"

"I can't say that I have solid proof, but I know that the Earl you saw that day must have been nothing more than an Akuma puppet created by the previous Earl. Most likely it existed as a precaution, in case of the unlikely event of his death, so that the 'Earl' could continue to exist even in Mana's absence. He always did like to have a back-up plan; I know him better than you. And yes, while it might be true that Mana's body died that day, it doesn't mean that the Earl's 'soul' couldn't have taken over his body like the Akuma do. You brought Mana's soul back, right? Well, he and the Earl's are one and the same, now. Do you really think that a carriage would be enough to do away with the holder of the Earl's lineage?"

 _I brought his soul back…does that mean I helped the Earl awaken? No. That can't be why…it can't be my fault too, can it?_ "Are you saying…that if I hadn't tried to bring him back in the first place, that…" _That Mana wouldn't have become the Earl? Would it just have passed on to someone else…?_

"The previous Earl most likely knew that Mana would become his next vessel. Being connected to their creator and master, his Akuma puppets knew this as well, and did their best to see to his return as quickly as possible. But my brother didn't want to become the Earl; he resisted, and so to speed up the process the Akuma probably had to get creative. In all likelihood, they were the ones who caused his death. Of course, they would have done it earlier, but it would be much easier if they had a human who would try to bring Mana back to life. That's why it was so perfect when he came across you, a young child. Not only that, but it was most likely obvious that Mana would try to find you in particular anyway. There was nothing you could have done, being tied up by fate like that. You were an easy target to manipulate—truly, this entire thing was staged from the beginning…"

_It's not true._

"Being so young at the time, I didn't expect you to realize any of this even in hindsight…"

_It can't be true._

"Even now, the only reason I'm telling you this is because you're the one who's going to have to face him…"

 _I won't believe it. I can't_ …

"Allen…"

She hears Tyki's voice behind her, detects the obvious hints of concern within it, but can't bring herself to respond to him; she doesn't think that she's able to reassure either him or herself that she's all right. She feels her knees go weak just imagining the scene that Neah has laid out for her: that all this time, the person she had been fighting against, striving to defeat for the good of mankind and at the behest of Mana's final words…is the very same person who had uttered them. The same man she idolized more than anyone. The same person she swore to prove herself to…and she's the reason he became the Earl?

Cross's story feels like nothing compared to this.

"Allen, snap out of it!"

It takes a moment for her brain to register that she is only still on her feet because she is being held up by Ezra, with a concerned Tyki standing right beside them, his arms extended warily as though fearful of touching her. The older woman has a tired smile on her face, a glimmer of a tear on her cheek, but when Allen looks closer she sees that the strong glow comes from the moon behind her.

There's no mistake.

Ezra and Neah are fading.

"Allen, I'm afraid you will have to fight once again. We will try to help you as much as we're able, but…" She looks down at her feet as though ashamed, a mournful grimace rippling across her features.

Allen's throat tightens. "What happened out there? Did you…?"

Just like that, her grimace vanishes, and the smile returns—which is somehow more painful than her frown. "I made a mistake…and now Neah and I are dying prematurely because of it. The two of you should be okay, but I can't say for certain what will happen once you wake up."

_What is she talking about?_

"…It's him."

Tyki's quiet announcement distracts the both of them, and when Allen follows his line of vision she catches the faint glimpse of a shadow in the far-off forest. A silhouette watches them in silence, not moving or showing any emotion but giving off a dangerous aura all the same. She shivers.

"Don't worry about him."

Ezra tilts the white-haired girl's face back to her, a soft smile playing on the corners of her lips. "He'll be okay—and so will we. I'll make sure of it."

Before she has a chance to protest, Allen finds herself swept into a hug, her body pressed strangely close to Ezra's, her head tucked maternally beneath the other woman's chin. She cannot say why, but something about the situation causes tears to spring to her eyes.

"I apologize on my daughter's behalf—not that I'm much better," Ezra whispers, not for the others to hear. "And I'm sorry that we couldn't be a family. Now…now, all you have to do is fight. But don't worry—we'll be by your side."

"…Even if it doesn't seem like it?"

She can almost picture the woman smiling above her. "Even then."

* * *

The second time she wakes up, she automatically knows that it's permanent. Her stomach turns as the remnants of agony begin to ebb, all too aware of just how painful the experience must have been for Ezra and Neah.

_I have to finish what they started._

Unfortunately it's difficult to right herself after being out of control of her own body for such a prolonged period of time—even if it hasn't been a day in the real world—and her vision swims as Allen desperately tries to deduce her situation.

_Where am I, even?_

A quick shove brings her to her knees, and with rapidly blinking eyes she sees a familiar face stirring on the ground beside where she had just been.

_Tyki?_

He's still unconscious—and to her utter disbelief, he is actually in his human form. Her grandmother had told her that they hurt themselves apparently beyond repair, and even now she can feel their presence fading rapidly, hanging onto her consciousness with barely a thread.

Had the same thing happened to Joyd, as well?

"Moyashi?"

Suddenly reminded of the imminent danger, and brought partially out of her stupor by the familiar voice, Allen turns and forces her exhausted body to its feet. Relief washes over her as she catches a glimpse of Kanda's disbelieving expression.

"Hey, Kanda," she says in her fake cheerful tone. She's about to raise her hand in greeting, and her heart nearly skips a beat when she realizes that she can't.

Her hand is missing.

Sure enough, panic sets in when she glances to her left, at the empty space where her shoulder and Innocence used to be.

"H-huh?" she sputters, her face pale. "Where is my—what happened—" Another sweep of the ground has her narrowing her eyes in confusion. Lying on the ground, directly at her feet, is a comically large sword, one that feels familiar in its appearance but that she can't quite name…

_Wait a minute…the Earl's sword?_

She pushes that thought aside, deeming it unimportant; all she knows for certain is that this weapon is her Innocence, and whether or not it looks like someone else's is irrelevant. She can feel it plain as day, as though it's only waiting for her to wield it again.

So she does, and it feels warm in the young woman's palm as she picks it up; it is only then that she finally looks up with a steady gaze, eyes set determinedly on the man standing across the room.

_Mana._

She can see it, the resemblance to her adopted father, now that his mask has been fully discarded and she has time to notice the features that have remained over all these years. She would consider herself blind not to.

There's no denying it any more.

Hastily, and too conscious of the pain in her heart, Allen reaches up and wipes a stray tear from her eye before it can escape. _Mana…_

She tenses when she sees Lenalee standing not far from him, her arms bundled with what looks to be a blanket—the same one that she had seen the nurse use earlier.

Her hand tightens around the sword's hilt.

_My daughter…I'd nearly forgotten._

"Get away from her," she calls out, "…Mana." The name stings harshly in her throat. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes again, and she does her best to ignore them.

Slowly, the Earl's—Mana's—gaze turns towards her, his eyes narrowed in a way that her guardian had never done; a way that chills her to her core.

"You too, Allen? I thought I made it clear to Ezra not to call me that. But I suppose they didn't have time to warn you, did they? What a shame."

" _Allen-chan! Watch out!"_

_Is that…Tiedoll?_

" _The others are coming!"_

Allen has no time to think about it.

Not two seconds later, everyone in the room sways on their feet as one side rumbles dangerously, the wall shaking as though in the middle of an earthquake. Allen shields her face as the stone starts to crumble, and she feels chunks of debris collide with her a few times before everything falls still.

" _There you are, exorcist!"_

At the sound of the sheer wrath in the other person's voice, Allen pulls her arms away from her face, blinking desperately to clear her vision of any remaining dust.

Just in time, coincidentally, to see a hulk of a Noah barreling towards her and Kanda, his eyes set on the Japanese man as a maniacal grin stretches from ear to ear. The other Noah are not too far behind him, most likely alerted by the disappearance of three of their members only moments ago. For a moment, the white-haired girl sees Road staring after them, racing towards her with worry etched across her face in obvious lines.

The rest is lost in a cacophony of sights and sounds as the large Noah bears down on her, gaze still riveted on the samurai standing behind her. His arm is held out as though he intends to knock her aside, and he barely spares her a second glance in his haste to attack.

But, instead of hitting her, he stops dead in his tracks, face and body suddenly stiff as he staggers on his feet.

_What's going on?_

The Noah releases a choked groan, and Allen is forced to watch in rapt horror as his body twists and contorts, veins swollen black by some invisible force, looking ready to burst out of his skin at any moment.

"What…what is this?" he growls, looking both enraged and disturbed as he falls to his knees before the young woman, his body shaking as it struggles to support its great mass. He glares up at her, his pupil-less eyes full of hatred, as though he is accusing her of having done something to him.

"What are you doing to him?!" she hears one of the twins yell, followed by the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching.

"Stop! Don't go any closer!"

At the Earl's command, the footsteps halt, but Allen is hardly paying attention at the moment anyway.

She shakes her head in response to the large Noah's gaze, unable to offer an explanation beyond her own guess.

And then, before he can say another word, the veins burst.

Black oozes from every orifice—eyes, nose, ears, and most likely other unseen places—and with it, the gray tone of his skin recedes, along with the stigmata that decorate his forehead. Sheer horror freezes her in place as she watches him scream and writhe in agony, and barely a few moments later he falls to the ground at her feet.

Dead.

She can hardly believe her eyes, and for a brief second even doubts what she's just witnessed. Everything has gone eerily silent, and though the white-haired girl desperately tries to make some sense of it, she's at a plain loss for what to think. She hadn't done anything to him—at least she doesn't think so—so what on earth could have caused such a violent reaction?

She slowly brings her gaze upwards, meeting the baffled faces of everyone else in the room—including, she notices, all of the other Noah and the exorcists who had followed right behind them.

"Well—that's it, isn't it?"

Allen's eyes snap towards the room's entrance only to see a very bored-looking Cross Marian leaning against the doorframe.

"We've won, Earl," he continues. "Do all of you lot realize what you're up against now? You're no longer just trying to destroy the heart, but something else entirely. Take a look at that baby over there."

Several pairs of eyes drift towards Lenalee, who in response only holds the infant in a tighter grip.

_Master…what are you doing?_

"It's a new breed," the red-haired man says. "I didn't realize it myself at first, but it's unmistakable. That cross of Innocence in her forehead marks her as an exorcist, but she's also a Noah too."

From somewhere else in the room, another voice speaks up, this one low and riddled with the markings of old age. Bookman's commanding tenor echoes throughout the large hall, sending chills down Allen's spine as she listens to him recite the very same words that Hevlaska had told her what feels like years ago.

" 'To stop time, two must come together who once, many years ago, only shared hate. The heart seethes in pain and regret, the soul in hate, love, and vengeance. Though the two often stew in conflict, the heart cannot survive without the soul, and the soul cannot survive without the heart. They must join and bring forth a new era—the era of the mind, for only the nurtured mind can halt time's steady crawl forward.'"

And suddenly, just like that, Hevlaska's confusing riddles make a disturbing amount of sense.

 _The heart and the soul…could that be Tyki and I? Or Neah and Joyd? And the nurtured mind…that can only be_ …

She doesn't want to believe it, but it's looking as though there is no other explanation.

" _Only the nurtured mind can halt time's steady crawl forward." If that's true, and I'm not the mind, then what does that mean? I am the heart…but I was never meant to be the destroyer of time? It was meant to be this way from the beginning, according to Hevlaska. In that case…_

_What am I supposed to do now? What is my daughter, then, except for a prophetic tool of destruction? Is this her entire purpose, to serve as a means for the Order to achieve their hundred-year goal?_

_What else can I do?_

**End it.**

Allen startles upon hearing Neah's voice, having thought he had already vanished from her body. She supposes it could be a hallucination, a remnant of the many months she had spent with him, but either way…she knows he's right.

_That's true, isn't it? I do have some control over her, at least. That Noah only died when he got too close to me, when he posed a possible threat. If that's the case, then I can control who she targets. Mana—no, the Earl—started all of this. He's the first Noah, the heart of the Noah Clan. If he dies for good, then what will happen to all the others?_

Allen knows the answer already, and she swallows the lump in her throat as she turns to look at Road. The young girl smiles back at her, and through the cheerful façade she can clearly see the tears swimming in her large eyes, almost as though she knows what Allen is thinking. But despite this, all she does is nod slowly, inclining her head in a gesture that seems to convey consent; there is only one way for her to interpret it.

_It's okay. I give you permission. This is how it was meant to end, after all._

Still, the white-haired girl cannot stop herself from hesitating at the prospect of ending so many lives, be they Noah or not, and it's only with a heavy heart that she takes her first step towards the Earl.

Her shoes click audibly on the floor as she steps towards him, and she feels the heat of a dozen piercing gazes locked on her back as she hurries in the direction of what seems to her like her own doom. Even the Earl, wearing the face and body of the man she looks up to more than anyone, is staring at her with a peculiar expression, one that she has never seen him wear: a hardened glare mixed with a passive acceptance, and is that a touch of recognition she sees in his eyes?

_It's because I look like Ezra. Nothing more._

But even so, Allen cannot help but to start talking to him as though he is the same person she knew all those years ago. Even if it pains her more than anything, she wants to take the opportunity to say all those things that she wasn't able to after the day he "died."

"Mana," she starts, her voice shaking with unshed tears, "I—I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me."

At that, the Earl's creased brows soften slightly, and Allen has to put in a great deal of effort to swallow the new tears that well up before continuing.

"Even if it wasn't actually for my sake, and it was all because you were the Earl's vessel, you still took the time to care for me. You never treated me like a burden, but like a companion. You gave me clothes, food, and shelter, when you could. You taught me to read, how to dress, how to be polite…everything that I never had a parent around to teach me. You were the reason I decided to dedicate my life to the Order, the reason why I ended up meeting so many of the people who became my friends. You were the father I never got to meet, and…and the fact that you're the Millennium Earl's vessel doesn't change that."

 _Click. Click. Click._ The sound of her shoes becomes more pronounced as she sees the subtle green glow of her child's cross brighten out of the corner of her eye. The Earl stumbles on his feet, and from behind her Allen can hear the sounds of several Noah groaning, and the extremely vocal protests from a few of them for her to stop.

(She doesn't listen.)

"Neah wanted to protect you above all else," she says, voice shaking more now. "That's why he turned against the Noah Clan. He wanted to save you…but if he can't do it, then I'll make sure to honor his will. I know…I know that it's what you would have wanted, too, were you still in the right state of mind." She's close to him now, close enough to see the finer details of his face, and for a moment it's as though she's stepped into the past.

Without a sound, the man before her falls to his knees.

 _This is it, then? Is this what my entire life has been leading up to? Just one sacrifice after another…_ She closes her eyes, unwilling to watch something so horrific for a second time, especially in regards to someone who once meant the world to her. She doesn't think she can stomach the sight of it.

"Allen."

Her limbs freeze, and of their own accord her eyes open once again, helplessly attracted to the man at her feet. He is looking up at her, and she is looking down at him, and for the first time she feels as though she knows whom it is she's talking to.

"Mana…" She finally allows the tears to flow over, for her face to break into a smile. "I did what you said, Mana. I kept walking."

Then, for the briefest instance, and no matter what anyone else will tell her afterwards, the young woman swears that she sees him smile back at her.

* * *

"…It's over."

"It's about time. I was beginning to worry that everything we did would be for nothing. I don't think I could handle us being failures for a second time."

Ezra shoots a sideways glance in Neah's direction, but this time, unlike all the others, her smile is full of nothing but good humor. "That doesn't sound like you, Neah. Do you want to talk about it?"

"What are you, my wife?" The man scoffs, averting his eyes from hers as he stalks a few paces away. His face is hidden entirely from view, with nothing but the overly full moon to cast a haunting glow on his familiar silhouette.

"…I'm glad he's finally dead. For real, this time, even if I couldn't do it myself. Maybe now…he's forgiven me."

"He would have forgiven you regardless. Besides, you might see him again, you know."

"In heaven? I didn't know you believed in that nonsense."

"And you don't? That sounds just like you. I'm curious, how would you explain the entirety of our existence, if it were nothing to do with supernatural intervention?"

"You call it supernatural intervention, but I've decided to call it fate. Nothing more. The fact that a puppet exists doesn't mean there has to be a puppeteer controlling it. If you leave it alone, it won't stay still. Nothing on this planet works that way. Once something is set in motion—and even if it's not—what happens is out of anyone's hands unless they dare to meddle. Even God, though with his lack of corporeal hands meddling could be a bit difficult, wouldn't you say?"

Apart from Ezra's quiet chuckle, the two are silent for a moment; no words need to be spoken between them and their shared history.

"And what about you, Joyd?" Ezra finally says, addressing the man still shrouded in the distant darkness.

After deliberating for a bit, he steps into the light, his expression oddly sheepish. It even takes Ezra back a bit.

"…I cannot forgive you two," he says quietly, his gaze shifting towards the distant moon. "I don't know if I will ever reach the level of acceptance you two seem to have. But right now…it is plain to see that there is no longer any point in continuing this conflict further. Here, the insanity and hatred that plagued me can no longer reach. I'm thinking more clearly than I have in the past thirty-five years."

A small smile decorates the woman's face. "And what do you think?"

"That perhaps…with all of the bad that's happened, both out of my control or not, there could be an unintended consequence. I cannot say whether or not it would be a bad thing—I am not even sure I'd be able to tell the difference anymore—but either way, we won't be around to see it. And maybe that is for the best."

She looks back towards the moon, allows it to swallow her with its brilliance as the last vestiges of her consciousness bleed away.

Neah, she notices, is already gone.

_An unintended consequence? A silver lining? No, not something as subtle as that…though I suppose they will have to figure that out for themselves._

Ezra closes her eyes, but it doesn't make a difference.

The light is blinding.


	45. Epilogue: A Cup of Gin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

"Hey, you—are you still alive?"

The voice barely reaches his ears, forced through a layer almost impermeable to sound—it is loud enough to be disruptive, but at the same time too quiet, as though the man in question is speaking not only an alien language, but is doing so from a great distance.

Oh, well. He supposes it makes sense. It's been days—perhaps even weeks—since he has heard a human voice at all apart from the one in his head.

And, he recalls, almost seven months since he's heard _her_ speak in particular. It would be jarring to hear anyone's voice after so long.

From the other side of his metal cage, Tyki hears the man who addressed him sigh. A hollow sound reverberates in the dark room—he's setting something down on the ground—and a few seconds after the last vibration fades away, he speaks again.

"Here are your rations for today. Eat them if you want, but I would appreciate it if you don't complain to me if they get stale later."

Shrewd, narrow eyes follow the man's shadowy figure as he saunters away, wondering why today of all days he has decided to speak more than three gruff words. Tyki ponders that perhaps his old guard has been replaced with someone new—he stopped paying attention to his surroundings a long time ago, so it stands to reason that he wouldn't notice such a meaningless change in routine. All of the men who enter his prison are faceless; their identities don't matter compared to the only other person who ever bothers to come see him.

As of today, she hasn't shown herself in upwards of two weeks.

"And by the way…"

His ears perk up. Evidently the guard has not left quite yet.

"…You're being released in a few days. At least, that's what Inspector Leverrier said to tell you."

At first he thinks he must be mistaken, and it is with utter disbelief that Tyki processes the fact that no, his ears had not deceived him. His voice has been out of practice for a long time, and when sound does finally come out it is hardly more than a breathless rasp.

"What…did you say?"

"…You're being released. I can't believe it either…personally, I would like to see you stay in here to rot, but Allen has more sympathy than I do. She's been watching over your case and trial since day one. I assume that at this point she's gotten tired of seeing you be tortured every other day."

"…Has she really?" He stops to think about this for a moment, wondering if it should surprise him. He's certainly been thrown for a loop lately, especially considering the fact that she hardly speaks even when she is around. He doesn't necessarily mind, and knows he has no right to complain, but it's frustrating all the same. Yet, ironically enough, within this span of time Tyki believes that he has never been closer to understanding her.

Yes, three years in captivity can be a long, long time—but from his warped perspective, it feels as though it were only yesterday.

* * *

_Three years earlier_ …

Pain.

Before he even opens his eyes, this is all he feels—white-hot and churning, deep within his gut and crawling on the surface of his skin, stewing in his muscles and in the cavity of his chest. It's everywhere, but he cannot place a source. The best guess he has is that it comes from somewhere else besides the physical realm. It wouldn't surprise him at this point, if that were the case.

But even so, he recognizes her scent above all else, feels the pressure of her limbs wrapped around his limp body more than the hard ground digging into his knees. His face is caressed by something soft, his nose filled with the undeniable essence he has come to value more than his own life. His scalp tingles where her fingers are surely entwined in his hair, holding his head close to what he recognizes as her chest.

And then he remembers.

He can't pull away, though he does try at first; her muscles resist him, and in his weakened state Tyki can do nothing but mindlessly obey.

"Wait a minute!" he hears her plead, her arms tightening around him; he keeps his eyes closed. "Don't come any closer. Just give us a second—"

"There is no time for this nonsense," an authoritative voice snarls, far too close for his comfort. "We have to take you two in as soon as possible. The Earl and the other Noah may be gone, but that doesn't mean we can forget about what you two are."

"What we _were_ ," Allen stresses, the anxiety in her voice causing his muscles to tense—does she notice, he wonders? "We aren't Noah anymore—we aren't agents of the Earl! There's no reason to lock us up!"

Though the urgency of their predicament isn't lost on him, there is one thing she says that stands out in particular: _We aren't Noah anymore._

_We aren't Noah anymore._

With a shock, the events of the last few hours return to him. The final battle, the confrontation with Ezra and the Fourteenth, Allen impaling herself along with him—or was it Ezra?—and of course, the time spent in that other realm of consciousness…

 _I'm not a Noah anymore_ …

His eyes snap open just as a stranger's hand lays itself upon his shoulder, and without thinking, Tyki reacts with the first instinct he had relied on for so long: violence.

He slaps the hand away with unprecedented force, twisting his body out of the white-haired girl's grasp and into a defensive posture. Words or reason go unspoken as he bares his teeth, glaring at the man in front of him with unbridled hatred. Said man startles upon meeting his gaze, the two spots in the center of his forehead raised in surprise at the animalistic nature of the former Noah.

" _Don't touch us_ ," he hisses, seeing red for what feels like the hundredth time that day. He can feel Allen behind him, and holds his arms slightly outward as though wary of someone trying to grab her as well.

"Tyki!" she gasps; the sound of her voice saying his name fills him with relief. "Stop—if you do anything rash, they'll kill you, and you won't be able to stop them."

He turns back around to face her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, but upon seeing hers they soften uncontrollably. He's incapable of causing her too much grief with how worried she looks. "Allen…" he whispers.

She shakes her head at him before addressing the man who had originally spoken, an intimidating figure with a comically small mustache and what looks like a stuffy personality to match.

"Fine," she whispers. "We'll cooperate. Just promise me…you won't kill or harm either of them—him, or my daughter."

 _Daughter…I'd almost forgotten_ …

Though the prospect of agreeing to her request obviously fills the man with distaste, he nods his head stiffly. "Very well. I agree to your terms, for now. Link, please escort Miss Walker to her old cell. The rest of my men will escort our new…guest."

_Wait, what?_

Before he can do anything, the same man who had tried to grab him only moments prior takes ahold of Allen's arm, and to his shock she does not try to resist. She allows him to pull her to her feet, and Tyki is forced to watch, dumbstruck, as the blond man walks her out of the room like she is a common prisoner.

"Don't worry," she tells Tyki. "It'll be okay."

Right before she leaves, she sends a false smile in his direction, her eyes closed as though this will somehow conceal her lie.

Though he didn't know it back then, that would be the last time they spoke properly for three years.

* * *

Much of his three-year-long captivity was spent in complete solitude, total isolation that would be enough to drive anyone else insane, but to him was far more peaceful than he would have initially guessed. Perhaps it was because he had spent so long more or less as a slave to the Noah in his mind, and having some relative silence (apart from his own thoughts) was what he needed to reclaim his sanity. It was a comforting thought, if not an idealistic one, and to be honest it did allow him time to put many things into perspective. Staring at the gray brick walls and progressively more disgusting mildew that painted them all day provided far more insight than Tyki would have believed possible, and if he weren't trying to be optimistic he would have thought that he had finally lost whatever marbles he had managed to hang onto until now.

Of course, a good portion of his time was also spent in the company of others. If there is one compliment he feels comfortable paying to the Black Order, it is that they possess incredibly effective torture methods.

(He hesitates upon using that word, _effective_ , but only because he had nothing to confess that wasn't already known by the Order. A part of him believed in the beginning that the only purpose of harming him was as a form of corporal punishment; the Vatican does not forgive the sin of heresy lightly. As it turns out, he was right.)

Every few days, they came to get him; never leaving his cell, his time spent in the bowels of the Black Order is punctuated by memories of scarlet blood (so different from his usual charcoal hue), faceless torturers, flashes of sharp metal tools, and the ever-present blank wall of his living quarters. He was fed once a day, and never anything more substantial than some bread, fried potatoes, or fruit. Water, of course, was both an exception and another way of ensuring misery in its absence—or abundance, as the practice of waterboarding showed him.

And, of course, she was always there, every time, watching with a blank slate of an expression as the men made victim of him again and again. But who is he to call himself a victim, anyway? This was nothing less than what he deserved.

As a matter of fact, he silently thanked her every time she reappeared with the men, staring at her with eyes that he fervently hoped contained even a hint of his gratitude. If anything, the fact that she was there made it all more bearable, even if he could hardly speak to her—because although she always looked emotionless in the face of his torment, like a doll detached from her surroundings, he could tell she wanted nothing more than to leave. His misery, his pain, did nothing for her, even if she could call it revenge.

This was the price he had to pay for his repentance; he knows this, and he accepts it.

(She never did come by herself, however—and she never brought their daughter, either.)

* * *

But while she never came to see him by herself, there were some times when they were alone—always after the men had left, and always for a very brief time.

One instance stands out in particular—that time seven months ago.

He had thought she would leave with his torturers, seeing as she had not spoken to him in a few weeks; he had no reason to expect anything different. But instead of sauntering out of the room like the others, she walked over and crouched at the bars of his cell, where he laid slumped and exhausted against the wall, blood from his torn fingernails soaking the cuffs of his shirt.

He leaned his head towards her, too worn out to do much else, and watched with heavily lidded eyes as she reached through the metal bars and placed her hand on his forehead. It was coated with sweat, his hair stuck grossly to his skin, and it made him self-conscious for perhaps the first time in his life. He looked disgusting, without a doubt—how could she bear to touch him, even if he were all but at her mercy? It didn't make sense.

(But then again, she hardly ever did.)

"You've been in here for a long time," she said, and in his delirious state she sounded nothing short of angelic. The only sounds he had heard in weeks came from the shuffles of his guards and tormentors, and even they never spoke actual words.

He wondered what made this time different. Even when she had spoken to him before, it was all in short, clipped phrases, and sometimes reassurances if he were feeling particularly awful from whatever had been done to him that day. She never said anything about him being released, never about her own situation—and never about that of their child. (Her child. Not his. It shouldn't be his.)

"Do you know why?" she asked him, clearly not expecting an answer as her hand reached down to roam across his cheek. "Why they're doing this to you, I mean."

All he could do was shake his head—but he was sure _she_ knew the answer. He entertained the idea that she was testing him to see if he were still relatively sane, and thought it best to play along.

The young woman sighed, her fingers returning to his scalp to play with his curly hair. His nerves ignited at the sensation, and his eyes closed at the lull of her voice. "It's because of me, you know. I made the deal with Leverrier."

"…Deal?"

A sad smile appeared on her face at the sound of his wheezing rasp. "You can speak. That's a good sign." Her face fell again. "It's my fault. In order to keep my daughter and I safe, I agreed to let them enact whatever punishment they wish on you, the only surviving servant of the Earl. I got out with only a few months' worth of prison time because of everyone vouching for me. That's why I didn't come see you for a while in the beginning…but I did manage to do one thing for you."

"…What?"

She smiled again, but this one made his heart leap; it was so snarky, so very similar to her regular smile but for her eyes that brimmed with tears. "I made them promise not to kill you. Take that any way you want."

* * *

It was hard, extremely hard, to get any semblance of rest in the first few days of his captivity. Unaccustomed to the room he was placed in, and without any accommodations so nice as a bed or cot, Tyki was forced to get creative with his sleeping routine. Eventually he found a way to do so that seemed to be as comfortable as he would get: sleeping with his back against the wall, his chin tucked to his chest, and his neck folded over sideways while his head leaned against the cold steel bars. His arms were always crossed as well, to put less pressure on his shoulders.

All in all, it was miserable.

This is how she finds him; after not having spoken to him for seven months, after he had seen neither hide nor hair of her at all for weeks, she finally shows up one day, a few days after he had been told of his impending release.

Tyki doesn't think he has ever been more thankful.

* * *

"Will you ever wake up?"

His eyes open slowly in response to the voice, groggy from his always-fitful sleep, and the first thing they see is the blurred silhouette of what can only be an angel. Pale hair, pale skin, pale eyes—they all come into focus gradually, and as soon as his brain registers the young woman's presence he sits up ramrod-straight.

Immense pain shoots through his arms and legs, held prone in their position for far too long, but he pays it no mind.

"…You're here."

"I am."

"…"

"…"

"…Why?"

She cocks her head to the side, gives him a pained smile as she crouches down to his level once again. (Oddly enough, this time he is sheepish that she feels obligated to bend down to meet his eyes when he could very well raise himself up to hers. Yet, as strange as it may seem, he believes it wouldn't be right. It would be something he would have done before, to intimidate her.)

(That's the last thing he wants to do now.)

She hesitates, silver eyes wandering to and fro and anywhere but his face.

"…Where are the guards?" he asks. "Should they not be here with you?" (He won't allow himself to feel hope; not in his situation. He shouldn't be allowed to ask for mercy, to believe in the fanciful notion that he will be granted any sort of pardon for what he's done—)

"You're being let out today."

Tyki freezes, breath catching in his throat, and stares at her with his mouth agape.

 _It can't be true, can it? I must have heard her wrong—there's no way they would grant leniency to someone like me. Surely a lifetime of imprisonment and torture would be the minimum sentence, not a measly three years._ "I…I thought that was a joke," he whispers, eyes leveled at the stony ground. "I couldn't bring myself to believe it when the guard told me the other day…it didn't seem worth it to get my hopes up, nor does it seem right to fulfill them. After all, I'm…" _Scum. The lowest of the low, the dirt buried beneath the earth. Even if it wasn't all me, I still_ …

"Tyki…" Her voice is full, weighed down with sorrow, and it catches him off guard when he looks back up at her.

"Allen…"

Her eyes are swimming, her irises shiny with large tears that brim at the edges and run down across her red-tinged cheeks. He stops breathing as she reaches up to wipe her face, a haggard sob ripping through her chest even as her fist muffles it.

 _Stop crying—please._ "What's wrong, girl?"

Her sobs grow louder, becoming wails of distress that pierce his heart. He moves closer to the bars of his cell, cursing their presence as he is forced to watch the girl before him fall apart all over again.

"I—you—haven't we all suffered enough?" she finally gasps out, her hands leaving her face to wrap around the steel bars. "And on top of that, to do all this…I'm sick of it. I've had my revenge a million times over, and I still didn't do anything to stop them from hurting you…"

 _She feels…guilty?_ The thought is as ridiculous as it is fitting for someone like her. "You should be happy, then," he says. "I'm being released, aren't I—and I assume not just for a public execution?"

She does something then that makes his heart flutter in his chest; she laughs, the sound maniacal in comparison with the small chuckles he has heard her give in the past.

"How you're so positive is beyond me," she mutters.

"And how you feel guilty for something you should have relished is beyond me, my dear."

Allen wipes her nose, her tears dried for the most part, and meets his gaze. "I have to confess…on certain days, when things were…bad, I did enjoy it a bit. I thought awful things—I even once thought that you deserved to suffer for what you had done, so why should I try to get you out of it? I always felt terrible afterwards, but I can't deny that those feelings were there. It'll be awhile before I shake those kinds of thoughts…I went to a pretty dark place for a long time, you know, especially when the Order was trying to figure out what to do with Eve…"

His ears go on alert then, and in the smallest voice he has ever heard himself muster he repeats, "…Eve?"

The young woman pauses then, her eyes refilling as an encore of tears takes over.

"I…I'd almost forgotten…" she gasps, one hand covering her mouth. "In all this time…I haven't once bothered to tell you her name, have I?"

He shakes his head, and before he can do anything else, the tears overflow once more. She seems to collapse in on herself, her hands turning white as she clutches the bars of his cell for dear life and leans the top of her head against them.

"I didn't realize…" she sobs, the sight wrenching at his heart even more than before as crystalline drops land on the floor below. "I was so caught up in everything that I completely forgot about you. How idiotic could I be…?"

Tyki fights the urge to blatantly ask about the child's whereabouts—Eve, he reminds himself. The thought of his daughter (whom he has no right to claim) is suddenly far more real now that he can put a name to her existence. It even fills him with—dare he say it—exhilaration to know that at the very least, she must be alive somewhere.

But right now, he has another, more important matter to face—and in spite of the fact that he knows he should feel more for his offspring (even if he has never gotten to meet her), there is someone else in the world he cares about more.

Call him selfish, call him a bastard—he already knows both of these things to be true, and at the moment he couldn't really give a damn.

"What are you saying?"

His whispered question goes unnoticed, but surely the feel of his hand on hers doesn't. Her skin is hot, but pale with strain, and at first it seems like she's about to pull away.

She doesn't, and as her death grip relaxes he folds his hand completely over hers. He then reaches the other through the gap between the bars, fingers outstretched towards her averted face, and does his best to wipe away whatever tears he can find. Allen slowly looks up at him, her mouth hanging open and brows drawn downwards, as the tips of his fingers linger on her wet skin. (But he doesn't remove them, and she doesn't ask him to.)

"Tyki?"

"You are far from being an idiot," he tells her, his hand visibly shaking as he fights the urge to bring her closer, "but I do think you're a bit foolish. There's always time, you know?"

* * *

He hates it when she goes, even though he knows this will be the last time he has to watch her back as she leaves him behind. The guards come to get him much later, a few hours at most, and by this time his legs are shaking with the urge to get up and walk around in a place that doesn't reek of mold and stale air. He is allowed a brief bath and a change of clothes before he is escorted out.

To his dismay, it's harder to leave than he had thought; though he had hardly sat still for the entire time in captivity, his body has still been weakened by his three years in prison, and he trips a few times on his way out of the dungeon. Even emerging into the underground hallway that leads back up wreaks havoc on his body, the bright overhead lights and candles causing his eyes to squint in pain.

(He puts up with it for her sake, and for the sake of the sought-after freedom that he never believed he would have again—though this doesn't mean he's in the clear yet, he supposes.)

The stairs are hell on him, the windows on the upper levels even more so, but what's worse is who he sees when he is escorted into a large office.

_This man…he's the one who locked me up._

"Leverrier, I take it?" he says as soon as he walks in, addressing the familiar man standing in front of the room's only desk. Another man sits in the chair behind it, but Tyki cannot see his face; even farther back are the four people he recognizes to be the (former) Generals, and he cringes at the phantom pain in his legs from the sight of the red-haired man.

"Indeed. I'm glad you remember my face," the mustachioed man deadpans, his arms crossed rigidly behind his back. "This will make things quick."

"How do you mean?"

Leverrier clears his throat. "As you can well imagine, there aren't many of us here who trust you, whether you're still a Noah or not. I would even argue that most members of the Order would prefer to see you locked up permanently, or at least executed. But on the contrary…it appears the time has come for me to keep up my end of the bargain with Miss Walker."

"Bargain?" he says, deciding to play dumb.

The older man grunts tellingly. "Though it defies logic, Allen Walker was the most adamant about keeping you alive. She managed to secure your safety quite ingeniously, too, I might add.

"As you know, the Order's policy has been to eradicate all traces of both Noah and Akuma. Of course, that means killing anyone who has shown signs of awakening. Normally you and Miss Walker would have been executed a long time ago…"

Tyki goes tense.

"…But, thanks to Walker's special circumstances, she's made quite big fools of us all. I assume the only reason you are still alive at all is because she turned her Sword of Exorcism on the both of you, destroying your Noah before her prodigal daughter could. Quite a loophole, I might say—turning her enemy into a normal human. In all good conscience, I cannot condone your death—not to mention the threat that surely hangs over _us_ should we disobey Walker's request."

"Threat?" he echoes.

Leverrier nods. "Your daughter is quite the weapon, Tyki Mikk—though, I suppose it would only be fair to have you see for yourself."

"Don't try anything funny," one of his escorts tells him as his arms are released from the handcuffs; Tyki sighs in relief as the cold, hard metal is loosened, and he rubs his wrists gratefully as the men back away.

"Thanks," he says nonchalantly, sending them all a closed-eye grin as he raises a hand in farewell. "I guess this is goodbye, isn't it—though I don't imagine I'll be leaving here quite yet. I still have some business to attend to."

None of them say a thing as he turns around and leaves, though he would be hard-pressed not to notice as someone else follows after him.

It is only after he turns a corner up ahead that he hears the man behind him clear his throat—and, of course, Tyki knows better than to ignore him.

"It's been a while," Cross says as he takes a drag on his cigarette; the former Noah turns to face him, warily eyeing the gun that is still strapped to his side. Is it just a normal gun now, he wonders? Or is the Innocence still intact? Allen's arm had still been present when he had seen her last, but she nearly always wears a glove over it.

"It has," Tyki agrees. "Are you looking to settle a score? If so, I'll gladly bear the brunt of it."

Cross grins at him, the image itself causing his stomach to churn, and crushes his cigarette underfoot. "Not really. I've had enough of this crap, and seeing what a pathetic state you were in the other day was satisfying enough."

 _The other day?_ "You—that was _you_ who delivered my food?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing—and I'm glad to say it was a relatively satisfying experience. You put my apprentice through quite a bit of grief, you know. I wanted to make sure you got what you deserved…though unfortunately, I doubt she appreciated it like I did."

Tyki smirks. "I wouldn't say that."

Cross raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything more on the topic, and after a few seconds the former Noah turns to leave.

"The tenth-story balcony."

"Pardon?"

As Tyki watches, the red-haired General lights another cigarette. "That's where you'll find her. She always goes there after a long day, and I'm sure she's expecting you—though God only knows why."

Cross leaves without another word, and Tyki finds himself silently disagreeing with the man as he makes his way down the hall.

_I don't think God himself knows what goes on in that girl's head._

* * *

Though he doesn't want to admit it, it irks him that Cross tends to be right so much of the time. If he didn't know any better, and hadn't known Wisely, he would have thought that the man was psychic himself.

In hindsight, this is probably because the thought of reuniting with the young woman (if it can even be called that) fills him with unease. The fact that he can hear her through the thin curtain that leads to the balcony outside only makes him more nervous.

What will she (he) do? What will she (he) say? There's no need to censor themselves now; though privacy is not ensured, it's not forbidden either, and the opportunity to show her the wholly human side of himself that she hasn't gotten to see much of is both tempting and more frightening than any of the events of the past three years.

That is, until someone else walks through the curtain before he can muster up the courage to step through. Tyki feels the cold glare fixate on him before the Japanese man even utters a word, and briefly considers turning around and retreating for the time being.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the man snarls, his facial muscles contorted and eyes as hard as stone. "I heard they let you go today. Shouldn't you be gone by now, or are you that eager to die?"

Tyki considers giving him a snarky reply, but decides against it. Justified anger notwithstanding, it's quite obvious to him that he would be a poor match for the samurai in his physical condition. It would be best not to aggravate him—but then again, is there anything he could possibly say that wouldn't? "I—"

"It's all right, Kanda."

She appears next to him, the curtain swaying behind her like a veil as she places a firm hand on the former exorcist's shoulder. He tenses at her touch, but his glare does not leave Tyki's face. He can still feel the intensity of his gaze even as his own is drawn to the young woman standing in the faint blush of afternoon light. Her front is slightly dark, her face left in shadow by the sun that shines in the background and creates a halo around her silhouette.

"Leave us alone for a minute, please," she says in a low voice. Her tone leaves no room for argument.

"But—" Kanda seems to realize it's futile, because he stops midsentence and instead gives a curt nod. He fixes Tyki with another cold glare before shoving past him roughly, causing the pain in his bruised shoulder to smart.

(Allen doesn't say anything about it, not that he had expected her to chastise the exorcist on his behalf.)

"Feel free to ignore him—he's Eve's godfather, just so you know. Anyway, come outside. There's someone I think you should meet."

* * *

When he sees her, he isn't sure what to do.

The child sits close to the edge of the balcony, and her back is turned to him as she absentmindedly drags a stick across the ground. Even from behind he can see that her profile is odd, with slick black hair that falls to her mid-back and a dress decorated with the Black Order's insignia.

And her skin, he realizes with a pang, is as gray as his once was.

"What…what happened to her?" he asks in a whisper, his eyes as wide as they can go.

Allen turns to look at him, her eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "You don't remember?" she asks before glancing away. "Actually, now that I think about it, you probably didn't get a chance to see her at all during the final battle, and even if you did, I doubt you'd be able to recall it."

He can hardly believe his ears. "So…she's always been this way?" he stutters. "She looks just like a…"

"A Noah."

He swallows the lump in his throat.

"I thought the same," the white-haired girl says quietly, careful not to allow the young girl to overhear. "Everyone did. She's more than that, though. Not only is she a born Noah, but she's an exorcist as well. A completely new type of being, and the one who killed the Earl."

 _Did she, now? So that's how it ended_. In all his time spent in captivity, no one had bothered to tell him how the war had ended, and he had never bothered to ask. It's not that he doesn't care; far from it. This war had cost him almost everything, including his own brother—and that's precisely the point.

He wants out. He wants no more part in any of this—not the Black Order, not the exorcists, and certainly not the now-extinct Noah family. Ideally he could have lived a quiet life, a life where he could see his daughter on occasion and Allen as often as he were allowed…

It's only now that he sees his offspring that Tyki realizes what a foolish sentiment that is. Looking at her, anyone would think she were some sort of monster, perhaps even a mutant. What kind of normal, quiet life could she have?

"Eve," he hears Allen say, loud enough for the sound to carry over. "Can you come over here for a moment?"

Tyki's breath catches upon glimpsing the child's face—her eyes, a deep silver that matches eerily well with her skin tone, and what's more is the appalling mark on her forehead.

It is, in every way, shape, and form, an almost exact replica of the cross on Allen's hand.

He's unbearably tense as she stands up and saunters over to them, her stride far more graceful and confident than it has any right to be for a three-year-old. Her feet are bare, and her hands curl into tiny fists as she glances nervously up at Tyki.

"Who is this, Mommy?"

And in that instant, Tyki feels his heart stop.

* * *

Allen can't hold in the ghost of a smile that emerges when Eve catches sight of Tyki; the girl is looking at him as though she will be chastised for staring, and she chalks that up to the man's utter lack of tact. He looks as though he's staring into an endless void—that would make any child uncomfortable.

"Who is this, Mommy?" Eve says again, this time glancing over at her mother.

Allen swallows the lump in her throat. "This man…is your father."

Eve's eyes light up, the sight causing her own heart to flutter in her chest, and for a moment she almost regrets telling her such a thing. "Really?" she asks, her gaze returning to the strange man standing above her. "I thought you'd be gray like me, but that's okay. Are you going to live with us from now on?"

"Um…" Tyki begins, looking to be at a loss for words.

"It's complicated," Allen interjects. "You see…your father's done many bad things, dear. He spent a long time away to pay for his crimes so that people would forgive him, but a lot of the people here still don't want him around. Ultimately, it's his decision whether or not he leaves."

She feels Tyki's gaze on her, knows that he is probably wondering what the hell is going on in her head, but she couldn't care less. Above all else, she doesn't want to get her daughter's hopes up.

"Eve." Another voice comes from the doorway, and without looking Allen knows that it's Kanda. "Come with me."

The white-haired woman nods at her daughter, and with one last worried glance cast at Tyki, she skips away. Allen silently thanks the Japanese man for intervening; at least now they have some semblance of privacy.

It's just too bad that she has absolutely no idea what to say.

Finally, after an uncomfortably stagnant few seconds, Tyki breaks the silence.

"I thought…" he begins, hesitation written all over his face, "I thought I would know what to say once I was here, but I don't know where to start."

She shakes her head. "Neither do I."

The wind whistles around them, and within it Allen swears she can hear the sound of bells chiming.

"Every day…" he says quietly. She looks over at the former Noah, noting his disheveled demeanor and panicked eyes, and thinks that he has never looked more human. "Every day I was locked up in that cell, I thought about you."

"…Did you?"

"Of course—what else was I supposed to do? I thought that I would finally get to atone for everything I did by cooperating, by allowing them to torture me…but now that I'm out, it still doesn't feel like enough. No matter what, I…"

"What do you mean, not enough? You'd prefer to be tortured more?" She can't fathom such a ridiculous thought, especially coming from Tyki Mikk—then again, the Tyki Mikk she originally knew was less human and more a product of his Noah, so she really has no precedent to go by. "That doesn't sound healthy."

"And what I did to you was?"

That stings, and she's sure he can see it.

"…I'm sorry," he says. "I just…I don't know if I should be around either of you, at least not right now. I—"

Before he can even finish his sentence, Allen has grabbed him by the front of his shirt and thrown him against the nearest wall, her knuckles white with strain from holding him too tightly.

"Are you joking?" she hisses, seeing red. "After everything I've been through in the past three years, and you want to leave just like that?"

"Allen—"

"No! You don't get to talk. Right now, let me tell you what _I've_ been through: while you were being locked up below ground, I was separated from Eve for the first few months. The only time I got to see her was to breastfeed, and even then I was under heavy watch—no coddling, no alone time, no opportunities to comfort her at night! And then, when I get out _months later_ , I'm told that the higher-ups in the Order want to hold a trial to decide whether or not to put her to death." The tears are flowing freely now, her hands shaking against his chest, and Allen has to fight to keep from collapsing completely. "An infant who can't even form proper sentences yet, and they wanted to put her to death for being the spawn of a Noah. Do you know how that feels?"

Tyki stares at her, shakes his head slowly.

She sniffles, taking a deep breath before continuing. "And the only reason they didn't, I'm sure, is because they were worried she would use her powers to kill them. They couldn't harm me without getting killed—that's how her ability works. It's not because they have pity on us—and even now, when all I want is to give her a normal life, I can't, because I'm afraid of what people will do to her if they see her on the streets…it's a cruel world, isn't it?"

"A very cruel world."

With that, she releases his shirt and sinks to her knees on the hard ground as the last of her resistance ebbs away. "So, please…" she whispers. "You can't leave yet. I don't know if I even want you around, but…" _It's far better than the alternative._

She closes her eyes, and the tears only flow harder when she senses him sit down beside her; a warm hand pulls her head to his chest while the other wraps around her back.

"I'm sorry," she hears Tyki whisper into her hair. His nose is pressed into her scalp, his fingers digging into the fabric of her clothing as he pulls her as close as humanly possible. "For everything I've done…I can never make it up to you. And on top of that, I wasn't even there when you needed me the most. You were the one who saved me, and I couldn't do anything for you in return…"

"Idiot," she mumbles under her breath. "There's only one thing you can do for me now."

"I know…but to be honest, I'm not sure if there's enough time for me to fix things."

 _Oh, Tyki…don't you know?_ _We have all the time in the world._

* * *

One day, Cross disappears, and she pretends not to know that he isn't coming back this time.

There's no need for him to, and one by one the other Generals follow suit; she can't blame them for wanting to get on with their own lives—God knows she wishes she could follow them.

But now isn't the time for that, and so today Allen sits by herself, honoring the man who had done his part in raising her by doing something unusual: she sips at a cup of gin, despising the abhorrent taste even as her own salty tears taint the glass.

* * *

Allen never thought she could get used to a routine this odd, but it happens. She's taken to sleeping in her old room, while Eve claims the one across the hall; she's already about five years old by this point, so she reasons the girl is old enough to sleep alone.

And, strangely enough (but perhaps not), Tyki has taken up residence in the room a few doors down. He had to fight just to get his way, as for the last two years he's been kept on close watch in a room on the opposite side of the castle. Trust is a difficult thing to acquire, much less trust for someone who used to be an enemy, and even Komui was quite put off by the idea at first.

But it happens, and slowly Allen can feel the three of them slipping into something that feels like normalcy.

* * *

The illusion is shattered on a fateful afternoon, as for the first time Tyki gets to experience the full extent of Eve's strange abilities.

They are outside on the balcony again, as per usual. (With her daughter not being allowed outside, Allen was forced to find another way to expose her to the outside world.) Eve is leaning over the ledge, standing on her toes so as to get a better downwards view, when out of nowhere Allen hears a loud screech.

She looks up just in time to see a hawk careening towards her head, its talons bared, but she barely has time to move before it falls to the ground at her feet, dead, its eyes full of blood and wings broken.

When she turns to look, she sees Eve staring towards the dead bird, her own eyes eerily empty and the cross on her forehead glowing bright green.

* * *

"What _was_ that?"

Tyki sounds distressed, almost panicked as he asks the question under his breath; though Eve is most likely fast asleep across the hall, the chance of them being overheard is obviously present in both parents' minds.

Allen sighs; she had known something like this would happen one day, and considers herself lucky to have gotten away with not explaining it for as long as she had. "You should know. That's her ability. It activates of its own accord when it senses that her or I are in danger."

"You mean it kills people?"

"…Just the people that it senses to be a threat, but…yes, basically. You should have known it wouldn't be pretty, Tyki. You knew it was her who destroyed the Noah and the Earl. Why do you think everyone is so scared of letting her leave the Order? How long do you think she could make it in normal society before being discovered? She'd be harassed in the first town we made it to."

"…What if…it wasn't beyond her control?"

The white-haired woman turns to look at him, her eyebrows raised at his suggestion. "If it isn't, we have yet to discover it. What are you getting at?"

He stands up, having been sitting on her bed prior, and waltzes over to her. His eyes are pensive. "Well—don't take this the wrong way, but I think I know what it is she's going through. I spent a long time as a slave to my Noah's urges, so I know better than anyone here how it feels to have no control over yourself or your abilities. Maybe…I can help her."

"You want to teach her to control her powers? Aren't you afraid of getting hurt?"

He laughs then, and though at first she is annoyed, Allen soon realizes that his laughter is not aimed at her, but at the ridiculousness of her question.

"My dear, don't you realize that the only one capable of hurting me is you?"

* * *

"You have to focus, Eve. Feel the Innocence within you and try to channel it. That way, you can avoid targeting those you don't wish to harm."

Tyki can tell that the girl is trying; every time he tries to teach her, using small animals such as flies, she makes the slightest bit of progress. He would hardly say she's ready to face the outside world, but by age six she's reached a level of control and maturity he himself finds impressive.

Today is not one of the better days.

"I don't understand," she whispers, glancing at the dead bluebird that sits at her feet. "I didn't mean to do it, but…"

His own heart constricts as he watches her eyes fill with tears. "It was an accident," he tells her, his hand awkwardly cupping her shoulder. "You'll do better next time, won't you?"

She nods her head, but the gesture is halfhearted.

Tyki sighs. "Go find your mother, dear. I'm sure she's wondering where you are."

She leaves without saying another word, and as soon as the balcony is clear the former Noah takes a deep breath, relaxing against the ledge.

_She's so destructive—even more than I ever was. She kills without intention or rationality. Her power seems to be based on fleeting emotions, ones that don't necessarily have to be fear or anger. Even the slightest amount of stress can provoke her._

_How on earth is she going to survive in this world?_

"I see you're still trying to teach her, bastard."

Tyki doesn't look in Kanda's direction as the other man steps out into the open air, but he does sigh. "Yes, I am."

"Tch. And you really think you'll be able to do her any good when the rest of us couldn't?"

He leans his cheek on one of his palms. "And what if I do? I am her father, after all. I at least owe it to her to be honest and try to guide her."

"Really? So do you plan on telling her what happened all those years ago, then? Do you plan on letting her know what you did to her mother?"

"…"

He doesn't say anything for a while, instead allowing the Japanese man's jab to sink in. Oh, he knows he's right, utterly and completely, and there's a part of him that simply wants to agree. He is a mockery of what a father should be, and nothing he can do now will change that.

But, in response to Kanda's rhetorical question, he merely says, "I'll leave that up to Allen to decide."

* * *

The day Bookman retires is also the day Allen realizes something important: that, no matter what she does or what lies she deludes herself into believing, time will never stop its unceasing movement forward.

The old patriarch of the Bookmen hadn't been up to much these days anyway, and seemed to merely be passing time—that is, until the day he left and allowed Lavi to take over his role.

And, of course, being the rambunctious fellow he is, the first thing Lavi did was to hold a celebration for himself—and the second, of course, was to leave.

The day after Lavi's unofficial inauguration, he vanishes from the Order without a trace—and so does Lenalee.

Allen can't really say that she's surprised. She had known the two were together a long time before the war even ended, and the only real source of surprise she harbors is that it took them this long to go through with it. She suspects that Lavi was waiting for Bookman's departure (or even death, she realizes with a shudder) before moving forward with his own life.

As much as the redhead hadn't liked to show it, he cared more for that old geezer than he let on.

She wonders what the two of them will do now that they have their freedom. They had left their now-dormant Innocence behind, so she knows it can't be anything too dangerous. They'll probably start a life together, perhaps even travel the world by each others' sides. She tries not to be resentful or jealous, because she knows they had stayed so long for her sake as well. It isn't fair of her to expect them to stay tied down to a place even she wants to leave.

Oh, well. If there's one thing she knows, it is that this is far from being the last time she'll see them. She doesn't know how, but she gets the feeling that they'll be back someday, even if only to visit. So for now, she'll keep hoping and waiting in order to get by.

It's the only way she knows how.

And then, a few days later, Kanda leaves, too, leaving nothing but a note behind:

_(This is not goodbye.)_

And, for some reason, she believes him.

* * *

The nightmares haven't stopped, at least not for her. They've been significantly reduced ever since the end of the war, but every now and then they still rear their ugly head, fraught with terrorizing images and memories that refuse to go away. Most of them are of the Earl's glowing eyes and sadistic smile, but on occasion others are forced in: ones of a deceased Noah, of a monster who once again takes everything from her as she is forced to watch.

Tonight is one of those nights, and so, when she awakens drenched in sweat and with her heart beating out of her chest, Allen does what she always does: she curls up in the middle of her bed, pulls the covers tightly around her body, and slows her breathing until she swears she's no longer alive. Usually this is enough to keep her at bay, but not tonight.

Tonight, she cannot keep herself from crying.

A few minutes into her self-induced coma, and the young woman hears a shy knock at the door; it's so quiet that she barely hears it, and at first she's inclined to believe it's a trick of her ears, but then it comes again.

She doesn't answer for a while, but after the fifth time she finally decides to respond.

A cold sweat breaks out on her skin when she opens the door, the man's silhouette familiar in a horrible way, and Allen backs away reflexively, her legs stiff and arms rigid at her sides.

"T-Tyki," she chokes out, her heart fluttering horribly against her ribcage as she tries to calm herself down.

"Are you all right?" he whispers back at her, stepping sheepishly into the room despite not being invited. "For some reason…I was worried about you. I'm sorry to intrude, but…"

She understands, and she tries to show him this by taking a seat on her bed; her legs feel as though they're about to collapse, anyway. He sits down next to her, and the two sit in companionable silence for a few minutes as Allen attempts to calm her racing heart.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

A simple nod is all she responds with.

"…If you want to talk about it…I'm here."

 _I know._ "It's nothing for you to worry about," she tells him. "They're only memories of the past—ancient history, now. They'll go away in time. I just…"

Even in darkness she can tell when he's looking at her, probably with that same expectant expression he always wears around her; as though he knows she's always hiding something else from him. It's not necessarily untrue.

"I just…I don't want to be here anymore."

He sighs. "That makes two of us—and three, if Eve's restless nature is anything to go by."

"That's not what I mean," she says, her voice choked with tears. "When I say 'here,' I'm not exactly sure that I'm talking about the Order in particular, but it's the closest I've come to understanding myself. When I'm here, all I can think about is the past—and at night, it's like I can't escape from my demons. The Akuma are still here, they're just in my head now. Even though my scar's faded, it feels like something else is still here with me, telling me that I'll never be able to leave, that…"

"…You're being haunted."

She nods.

"I do understand. I feel the same way sometimes…but I don't dream. I haven't dreamed in ages, not since that day."

"You don't know why?"

"My best guess would be that my subconscious mind is blocking all of them. I suppose I'm still too cowardly to face up to everything I've done. In some ways, I think your mind may be healthier. You never run from your problems."

Allen takes a deep breath, knowing that no matter what happens from here on out, what she says next will have an impact for years to come.

"Maybe it's time to change that, then."

And then, for reasons unknown to her (but are actually very well known, indeed), she doesn't stop him when he kisses her. She doesn't stop him when the kiss deepens, and instead pulls him closer when one of his arms wraps around her waist, and the other cups her cheek. It burns where he touches her bare skin, just as it always has, and Allen thinks then that if this one thing were to never change, she would be okay with it.

She doesn't stop herself when she pulls him down on top of her, running her hands through his dark hair as his mouth migrates to her neck, peppering open-mouthed kisses on the pale skin of her collarbone. It's all she can do to avoid breathing his name like a curse, or maybe a prayer, but that doesn't stop him from saying hers. It doesn't stop him from sliding her loose sleeping clothes off of her frame and tossing them to the side, and it doesn't stop her from all but doing the same to his garments.

It doesn't stop them at all.

She watches him all the while, watches the way his face softens when he meets her eyes, watches the way he tightens his arms around her when she releases a breathy sigh, and she knows he's watching her in return. When it becomes almost too much for her to bear, she buries her face in his neck, but he's having none of that, and instead redirects her lips so that they are once again entwined with his.

It's not the same when he enters her, but in a way it is. He feels the same as he always had, and it fills her with relief to know that many of the times before had not been with some stranger, but rather the man before her now. But at the same time it's different, because now he _has_ changed—he's still himself, but better, more human, more true to his nature.

This is all she can ask for, isn't it?

Apparently not, as she hears him whisper three words into her ear as they climax, and even as her body quivers in pleasure she is able to distinguish them.

" _I love you."_

* * *

In the end, they do stay true to their conversation that night. It doesn't take as long as she had thought it would, despite the fact that Allen is a firm believer that one cannot rush things when it comes to matters of the heart. Call her old-fashioned, but she despises impatience, and going through with something before she had known she was ready had rarely turned out well for her.

But in this case, she thinks she can make an exception.

And so, on the eve of her daughter's sixth birthday, the three of them—father, mother, and child—vanish from the Black Order headquarters, leaving behind nothing but their rooms and a vault full of old memories. They hadn't had many possessions to their names, anyway, but even so Allen had remembered to bring Timcanpy along for the journey. If nothing else, he would be good company.

As the three of them descend the mountain, with Eve practically vibrating with excitement for seeing the outside world, Allen glances behind her. The castle of the Black Order looms as tall and twisted as ever in the middle of the night, yet right now it looks almost…relieved, standing straighter than it ever had before. It could be because of the whirlwind repairs that had to be made after the final battle, but something about it still gets to her.

With that, she returns her gaze forward and continues walking, determined to make sure that she never turns back again. She will continue walking for as long as she is able, because if she doesn't, she will never move past anything that's happened.

If she doesn't, she will never be able to find the glint of gold in anything, the silver lining that surely comes with every new or unfortunate experience. She will never be able to give her daughter a normal life, a normal home, even if the idea of such a thing happening is so far out of reach in the first place.

It's funny, she thinks as the faintest ray of light begins to bleed over the horizon. If one were to give a passing glance to the three of them right now, it would almost seem as though they were a normal family.

And if one were to glance at the world as a whole, it would almost seem as though nothing has changed at all.

In the distance, at a place far behind her where Allen refuses to look, the sun rises.


End file.
